The Daughter She Never Really Had
by aghamora
Summary: When Quinn suffers a miscarriage, she has to cope with the grief of losing the daughter she never really had, and Terri must deal with the fact that she no longer has a child to adopt and pass off as Will's. - - Finn/Quinn.
1. Chapter 1

**Note: **Not quite sure where this will go. But it will probably be depressing. This is my first Glee fanfic, by the way, and feel free to tell me if I go out of character or something. I'm kinda nervous about publishing it actually…I'm not the greatest at remembering things that happened in TV shows. First chapter will be short, not sure if the future ones will be much longer. (: Review, please and thank you.

* * *

She awakes to a sudden pain in her abdomen, and her hand flies immediately to where the slight bump of her child grows. Her movement does not awake the boy sleeping next to her, so she sits up slowly. She brushes it off after rubbing her belly for a few moments. It could be anything, she decides. Her trepidation is calmed, and she nestles back underneath the covers and moves closer to the sleeping form beside her, clutching his hand in hers.

She hardly ever gets any sleep any more. She awakes many times during the night, often hoping to wake up in her own bed and have everything go back to normal. But she never does, and her eyes always flutter open to the foreign bedroom that is her new sleeping area. And if she does sleep, nightmares invade her rest and make sleep a living hell for her.

Minutes later, another sharp pain tears through her. She gasps this time, as it is more intense and not as easy to brush aside as the prior. A tiny bit of concern fills her, but she calms herself, repeating quietly that it isn't good for the baby to stress out about a little pain. This time, the person beside her awakes at her sudden gasp.

"You okay?" he asks sleepily. His eyes are hazy with sleep. She looks at him for a moment, and then decides not to worry him. After all, it is merely a little bit of pain. It could be just a stomachache, it's not like they're uncommon.

"No…yeah…I'm gonna go get a drink of water," she removes herself from the bed slowly and slides on the pair of slippers that wait beside it. He rolls back over. She moves carefully in the darkness, and creeps down the stairs softly, so as to not awake her boyfriend's mother, who so graciously allowed her to stay here when she had no other place to go. It is the least she can do.

The Hudson household is small, but that's okay, because she has always loved small and cozy places, unlike her parent's mansion. That was cold and empty, and, although she is sleep deprived, she finds herself almost glad to be gone. But then she is reminded of her situation, and she yearns to return to being daddy's little girl, to being the president of the celibacy club and a perfect model of virtue. The kitchen is tight and cramped, and so are the bedrooms and nearly every other room, but she thinks that she can grow to love this place. She feels guilty, though, because she is placing a burden on a person who doesn't deserve it, who didn't even get her pregnant. She shakes the thoughts away.

She takes a glass from the cupboard and fills it at the sink. She sips it unhurriedly, as she is in no rush to return to her fitful sleep. She folds her free hand across her chest. She moves to the middle of the room while drinking, careful not to step on anything that may have been on the floor. The night is cool, and a gentle wind outside rustles the trees. She stares up at the stars and the full moon, her green eyes full of longing.

Without warning, a searing pain shoots from her stomach, and she drops the water she is drinking, the glass shattering into a thousand pieces on the tile floor. The pain is intolerable. She screams, and tears from the immense hurt spill from her eyes and down her cheeks. She moves both hands to her abdomen, which she now looks at through her blurry eyes in pure terror. _What is going on? Is the baby all right?_ She isn't a doctor, but she knows that something is wrong.

"Finn!" she cries out desperately. If he doesn't hear her, or if he has fallen into a heavy sleep, she doesn't know what she'll do. However, her screams awake him, and he comes darting down the stairs as if there is a fire occurring in the room she stands in. Although he is groggy, his mind still registers the sight unfolding in front of him.

And it is petrifying.

She's holding her stomach, and crying, and he knows something is wrong. Terribly, horribly wrong. He is at least smart enough to know that any person, pregnant or not, shouldn't be having his kind of pain.

She stumbles over to him, gasping, and he catches her before she doubles over in pain. Her hold on him is so tight that he is almost afraid that he may lose his arm to her iron grip. Her eyes are big and scared, and she only mutters three words to him before allowing the dam of her tears break:

"Finn, the baby."

He darts for the phone, moving faster than he ever remembers moving, and presses the three keys everyone is taught so well into the device. He steals a glance at her that is returned through fearful eyes.

"It's gonna be okay," he says. She isn't so sure, but she nods anyway.

After a few rings, a dispatcher answers.

"911, what is your emergency?" they ask on the other line calmly. He abruptly wonders how this person has learned to remain so calm and collected when taking the calls of people who are panicked and terrified, and possibly dying. It is a job that he does not ever want to have.

""My girlfriend…she's having really bad stomach pains…" He does know quite how to speak, as the panic inside him is so overwhelming.

"We'll dispatch an ambulance right away. Stay with me." Finn nods although he knows that the dispatcher can't see him.

"Please hurry, she's pregnant," he nearly begs them, but he knows that they can't make the ambulance go any faster.

Taking another look at her, he begs whatever power is watching over them to help.

* * *

An ambulance arrives minutes later, and Finn and Quinn are ushered in together. His mother follows in her car. The pair sit in the back together, a nearly hysterical Quinn holding onto him tightly. He cannot tear his eyes from hers while they ride in silence.

After few minutes, she finally speaks.

"What if I lose the baby?" her voice is a hoarse whisper that he can barely hear. The question, although entirely realistic, shocks and horrifies him. It just can't happen. Her baby, his baby, _their _baby. Gone? No way. Although their child is a surprise, and sort of an accident, he never even _thought_ about what could happen if Quinn lost the baby. It wasn't a possibility.

But seeing her in such terrible pain finally forces him to think. It _could_ happen, and he isn't quite sure how he would feel if it did. Would he be relieved? Sad? He blocks the thoughts from his mind and chooses a comforting response that makes him seem like he is totally confident that their child will be okay. But, in truth, he isn't.

"You…you're not going to lose the baby," he assures her shakily. He isn't sure if he is trying to reassure her more than himself. Finn can tell by her next words that he hasn't encouraged her in the slightest.

"I can't lose the baby, I can't lose the baby, I can't lose her Finn…" she cries into his shoulder and clings to him as if he is her only hope of survival. Which, right now, he is. It is a few seconds later that she finds herself gasping and crying out in horrendous pain again.

He realizes that he can't lose her either.


	2. Chapter 2

As Quinn and Finn are undergoing a horrifying ordeal, Terri Schuester lies in bed and lets her mind wander. She rests her hand on her stomach, where her child _should_ be, and a pang of longing hits her. She thinks about how the only thing convincing Will that she is carrying his child is a mere pillow. And how she's been lying to her husband for so long.

She isn't sure if she can keep this up much longer.

Of course, Kendra would tell her that she only has to make it for several more months, and then she'll have a baby and not run the risk of being caught faking a pregnancy. And that she'll have Will back.

But the child won't be his. And not hers either.

She longs to feel a child kick in her womb, to feel a life growing inside her, counting on her for survival. It would be a marvelous feeling. She can't help but envy that Fabray girl, who doesn't even want her baby. It isn't fair that someone who doesn't want something receives it, and that the person desperately longing for it is left without it, miserable.

_Toughen up,_ Kendra would tell her; _life isn't fair._

Terri hates the look on Will's face when she moves away from him whenever he tries to touch her stomach. He probably thinks she thinks he's a monster or something. But he isn't. She loves him so much. She wishes that she never made up this whole pregnancy thing in the first place. She only did it because she didn't want him to leave her. But now, if he does find out, he'll run to that redheaded counselor at his school for comfort. She can't stand the thought. He belongs with _her_, darn it, and only her.

Pulling back her blindfold, she reaches over to where her husband sleeps and gently touches his arm. She wonders how things ever got this crazy. Her love still burns strong, and she hopes his still does too. This lying thing, she decides, is only for the better. It'll make him love her again. It may not be right, but it's her only option.

Is it?

Of course it is. It'll all be over soon…

Sighing softly, she moves her sleeping blindfold back over her eyes and pulls the covers back over her small frame.

So long as everything goes okay with that Quinn's pregnancy, she'll have a baby and everything will be all right.

* * *

They rush her into the hospital on a stretcher as she clutches Finn's hand tightly. As they are about to take her into a room for examination, a man stops Finn before he can enter.

"Are you family?" Unthinkingly, Finn shakes his head, "I'm sorry, we can only allow family back here." He looks at Quinn's pleading eyes that are imploring him to think of something, to not relent. She needs him with her, and he knows that. He finally decides not to surrender. His next words are painful him to say, and they are still unsuccessful; "Her real family kicked her out!" he tells the man, practically through clenched teeth. He doesn't want to punch the guy, but he has a strong urge to. Quinn nearly winces at his harsh words, as they are a reminder of her current, not-so-fabulous situation. The man holds up his hands, motioning for him to calm before he makes a scene, before turning and following the stretcher out of Finn's sight. Defeated, he stalks over to a chair in the waiting room and throws himself down into it. He puts his head in his hands. He doesn't cry; he feels numb. He feels the comforting hand of his mother rub his back, and he doesn't have the energy to shrug her off.

* * *

_He is merely inches from her face, and she can feel his hot breath of her cheek. She loves this closeness, but resists the urge to initiate a kiss. She looks him in the eyes, silently begging him to kiss her. He seems to catch her meaning, and, finally, he pushes his lips down on hers. She isn't about to stop him despite the fact that he's already dating someone, someone who's having his baby. In fact, that only makes this seem sweeter. It's revenge, she decides, for all the times his girlfriend has been hateful to her. It sounds like a childish revenge, but to her, it feels wonderful. She kisses back hungrily, and allows him to deepen the kiss. This is what she's waited for, what is rightfully hers, and she savors the taste of him. They fall onto a bed together. She isn't quite sure whose bed she's on, or where she is; all she knows is that she is with the guy of her dreams and that she isn't about to blow it by asking where they are. He begins to remove her sweater, and, almost instinctively, she lets him without a second thought. They break apart for a few seconds while he takes off his shirt, and she catches her breath. She can't stop now, even if her conscience is screaming at her, telling her that this is wrong. She ignores it though, and allows her skirt to be removed. He is about to unbutton his pants when…_

_A ringing sound blares from his pocket. But he doesn't make a move to answer it. She is bewildered, and gives him a look that inquires as to why he's ignoring his phone. Wait…that isn't his phone. It can't be, because the ringing sounds like it's coming from right next to her…_

Rachel flings upright in bed at sound blaring next to her. She removes her sleeping blindfold and looks at her room. No Finn, no nothing. Just darkness. It was just a dream. It figures; that's all it ever is. He doesn't love her: he loves Quinn. Kurt had put it best: they were just distractions. Nothing more, nothing less. She really needs to stop having these dreams, anyway. It isn't appropriate. And she also needs to get over this silly crush, but she can't do that either. The closest thing she'll ever get, she figures, are these dreams.

It takes a couple moments for her to realize that it is her phone ringing, not dream-Finn's. Who on earth would be calling at…She peers over at her clock. Four in the morning. Who on earth would be calling at four in the morning? Nonetheless, she answers without bothering to look at her caller ID.

"Hello?" she asks sleepily, stifling a yawn.

"Rachel?" a strangely familiar voice fills her ear. Finn? Wait, this isn't still a dream, is it?

"Finn? Why on earth are you calling this late?" she inquires, immediately trying to keep the sleep out of her voice, as she now knows it's him and wants to sound collected. She pinches herself to make sure she's not dreaming and sure enough, she isn't.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I just…Quinn's in the hospital and-" he begins.

"Why is Quinn in the hospital?" Quinn hadn't really ever been that nice to her, so Rachel couldn't honestly say the concern in her voice was genuine. But, she pretended for the sake of Finn thinking that she was seriously nervous.

"She was having these really bad stomach pains and stuff and I just-"

Rachel knows that stomach pain can be from a number of pregnancy complications, including miscarriage, but she doesn't say that. He already sounds scared enough.

"Is she going to be alright?" she asks, continuing her feigned concern. Normally, she doesn't lie, but tonight is an exception. She _is_ his girlfriend, after all, and Rachel doesn't know if she can get over that while she still loves him.

"I don't know. I'm just… waiting here, and I'm kinda alone, well my mom's here, but other than that…I just…need…someone to…talk to," his sentence is choppy, as he hesitates between word choice. Warmness fills Rachel's heart, and she almost smiles. He wants someone to talk to. And he called her instead of someone like Puck, his best friend. She knows she shouldn't be happy, but she can't contain it. He likes her back, he told her that a few days ago already, and now maybe this is the first step of something stronger than friendship. He could pour out his heart and concerns to her and then maybe she could comfort him by hugging him or maybe even kiss him …

She decides that she's getting too far ahead of herself and stops thinking when his voice draws her back from her fantasy.

"You still there?"

"Y-yes, sorry. I'll be there as soon as I can," she tells him. She knows that one of her fathers will take her to the hospital if she tells them that one of her friends is there. And if they don't…well, she's close to getting her learner's permit anyway… She gets out of bed and dresses quickly, throwing on a trademark sweater and provocatively short, brown plaid skirt. Her sleepiness melts away. She almost puts on makeup, but then remembers that this isn't a date; this is just for support.

She keeps repeating that, but her love for Finn wins out on rationality every time.

* * *

Finn paces in the waiting room, waiting either for a doctor to come out, or for Rachel to arrive. His mother sits wordlessly, flipping through a_ People_ magazine left on the end table next to her. She had been watching him pace for a while now and decides that it's finally time to intervene.

"She'll be okay Finn," she tells her son. Of course, she isn't positive, but she's sure enough. He snaps his head up at her sudden speaking and exhales before speaking.

"Yeah, I hope so," his voice shakes ever so slightly, but enough that she catches it. Unsure of how to comfort him further, or if she's even able to, she resumes skimming the magazine she holds. A few minutes pass in silence until Finn snaps his head up again at yet another disturbance.

The doors to the hospital open, and in steps Rachel, her facial expression and clothing appearing as if it wasn't the middle of the night. Leave it to someone like her to look like that at this ungodly hour.

"How is she?" She'll admit that maybe she only came for Finn, but she still asks anyway.

"I don't know," he's pacing now, and she thinks he looks like an emotional wreck. She moves closer to him, and places a hand on his arm comfortingly. She opens her mouth, about to say that she'll probably be all right and not to worry, but decides against speaking and removes her hand and puts it behind her back. Because she doesn't know if she'll be all right. She looks down as an awkward silence fills the air. Her skin still tingles from where she touched him. Oh how she loves that feeling… She clears her throat, breaking the thick quietness and her chain of thought at once.

"I-I guess we'll just have to wait," she says finally, and sits down. She crosses her knee sock-clad legs and picks up a magazine. Finn watches her for a few moments before following suit, save for the magazine. Nothing can distract him from the fear built up inside him.

Instead, he twiddles his thumbs.

* * *

Some time later, a doctor walks out into the pristine waiting room. He observes three people sitting in a row in the waiting room chairs, one twiddling his thumbs nervously with his head down. The other looks oddly composed for this hour. And the eldest, whom he assumes to be their parent, sits patiently. Proceeding, he steps up to them, clutching his clipboard.

"Are you all here for Quinn Fabray?" he inquires. The boy's head jerks up almost instantly and in seconds he's on his feet, waiting to receive whatever news there is. The younger girl drops the magazine she had held and looks at him too with expectant eyes. The other woman doesn't set down her magazine, but looks up at him.

"Yeah," the boy answers. The doctor sighs – giving bad news is always hard - and begins to speak:

"I'm terribly sorry, but Ms. Fabray has miscarried."


	3. Chapter 3

**Note: **Thank you everyone for reading (: You're right, last chapter had a slow pace, as it was really only a filler to introduce Rachel into the story. And, since everything kind of… blew up in the episodes Sectionals and Mattresses, this disregards anything after Hairography, for the sake of the plot of this fiction. I'm also fairly positive that Tina only told Artie about her fake stuttering, so Rachel's thought process in one line in this chapter is as if she doesn't know. Anyways, enjoy.

* * *

As he is about to walk into her room, he checks to make sure Rachel's still behind him. He isn't quite sure if he can go in alone. She gives him a sad, somewhat reassuring smile and nods before he turns around and steps into his girlfriend's room.

The minute she sees him, she bursts into heavier sobs than before he entered. She's curled into a little ball, her makeup blurred and her cheeks coated in the tears that pour down her cheeks endlessly. Her blonde hair is tangled, and her clothes wrinkles. She looks like she's been sobbing for hours, but it has only been a few minutes after she was informed that she's no longer pregnant.

"Finn…" she doesn't make an effort to calm herself. She is hysterical, and right then, nothing can make her relax. He practically runs over to her and envelops her into his embrace. She wraps her arms around him tightly. From her distance a safe ten feet away from Quinn's bed, Rachel can see how he's shedding a few tears himself as she clings to him, blinded by sorrow. The scene is heartbreaking and even Rachel, who originally only came for him, is almost moved to tears. She folds her arms behind her back and stares around awkwardly. She almost regrets coming, as she feels that this is a private moment between Finn and Quinn.

The tears continue for a good five minutes until Quinn finally looks up at Rachel.

"W-why are _you_ here?" she asks bitterly. Her eyes are icy and suspicious, and, of course, miserable. Rachel immediately stiffens.

"I-I just came because, well, I think that we should support our fellow glee club members. And…because you need people to be here for you. I wanted to be here for you." An hour before, Rachel would have easily said that her response wasn't genuine, but now it is. She hates to see anyone reduced to such hysterics and misery, even someone who has been nothing but mean to her. Even though she's on the border of losing control, Quinn can see that she isn't lying.

"Thank you," she responds softly, so softly that Rachel can hardly hear her, before hiding her face in Finn's shirt once more and weeping. Rachel is shocked to say the least. Quinn Fabray thanking her? Yeah, right.

"I-I-I'll leave you alone," she smiles although she's stuttering like Tina on a bad day. Neither of them looks up to acknowledge her words, so she figures it's fine to leave without another word. Removing herself from the uncomfortable situation and the heavy atmosphere of Quinn's room, she takes a deep breath when she gets outside and leans against the wall.

* * *

Meanwhile, Quinn finally gathers her voice to speak after her seemingly infinite crying. She looks up at her boyfriend's face to see his cheeks wet with tears too.

"Y-you're crying," she observes, her voice wavering.

"Yeah, I g-guess I just kinda thought that…that losing her couldn't happen, y-you know?" he almost sniffs, but then he reminds himself that that isn't manly at all, and makes to wipe off any evidence on his cheeks that he had ever been crying. She nods.

"I never would've let you na-name her Drizzle, you know," she tells him before burying herself into his already sodden shirt and letting the few tears that remain slide down her face, "I can't believe she's gone," she returns to sobbing now, "Why did I…l-lose her? I didn't even…she was a…sur-surprise, but I loved her. God, maybe…s-somehow she knew I wasn't going to keep her...that I didn't love her. What did I d-do Finn? I loved her…I loved her…_I loved her_," she emphasizes her last words.

"I loved her too," he adds. He sounds as if he is trying to steady his voice but cannot. She finally breaks away and wipes away her tears.. She pulls the covers over her arms and shivers. This whole place is cold and uncaring, with the nurses only feigning interest and fear for her, and she longs to leave and return to Finn's home.

It's not her home, but it's the closest thing to a home she has.

"They tell me I'll only have to stay for a couple days. And-and than I can go home. Like she never even happened," she speaks harshly, almost growling the words out. Because her daughter did happen. She just didn't happen for that long.

"I love you, Quinn," he looks her in the eyes, and she knows he's not just saying it to make her feel better. She smiles tearfully back at him, grabbing his hand and squeezing it.

"I love you too. Y-you were going to stand by me through everything. And now you don't have to," she almost sounds angry with him, and this worries Finn. In her fragile state, he doesn't want her to get even a little bit mad.

"No…Quinn…"

"I-I know. I can't think straight." She's overcome by a wave of sudden exhaustion, and yearns for the comfort of their bed instead of the lumpy hospital mattress. She dabs her eyes with a tissue from the box Finn holds for her, sniffling, "I'm just going to…" she leans back into the bed and begins to shut her eyes. She doesn't suppress the yawn she lets out next. She's asleep in an instant after a terrifying night, physically and emotionally drained, and Finn can't help but climb into bed with her. Because she needs him there, and he needs her there. It's his only option – there's no way he can go home and leave her here alone - and he doesn't mind. Gently, he places his hand where the bump of their child used to grow. Where she should still be growing. He feels overwhelming grief hit him, but he's too worn-out to cry and shuts his eyes instead. He shouldn't think about it anymore…it's better not to.

Suddenly hearing the silence from the room beside her, Rachel curiously pokes her head in and observes the pair sleeping together peacefully, her brown hair falling slightly in front of her eyes. She sees Quinn's head leaning against his shoulder, and Finn resting his hand on her stomach.

And, for both personal and impersonal reasons, she sheds a few tears of her own.

* * *

She awakes the next morning to the bright sun shining in through the cracks of the window's unopened blinds. The glow creates golden lines on her face, and she blinks at the bright light. For the first few seconds, she isn't sure where she is, but then she remembers.

She's in the hospital, because she miscarried.

All of the previous night floods back into her as she realizes that she's leaning her head against Finn's arm. Wait…why is he here? Normally, she would've at least admonished him for sneaking into bed and scaring her like this, but she's exhausted and miserable, and she realizes that she needs him there. She looks around the room, and the cleanliness and overuse of the color white almost blinds her.

"Finn…" she says weakly, hopefully loud enough for him to hear, as she isn't sure she can muster enough energy to speak louder. She nudges his arm. She can hardly tell that is herself speaking. She sounds so hoarse…and hopeless. She doesn't see where there's any hope in the world now. He grunts, and after a few moments, opens his eyes. He jumps a little when he realizes that Quinn is the one attempting to wake him.

"Oh, hey," he says drowsily. Her stomach growls, as the last thing she had had was a glass of water the night before, and Finn notices, "I'll uh, get something for us to eat." He sits up and removes himself from the bed. The previous day rushes back into his brain, and he feels like lying down and never getting up. After all, there's nothing to get up for anymore.

"I could just ring the nurses," she points out, her tiny voice quivering. He shakes his head. He looks at her good and hard this time. She looks different, but he can't quite pick out how. She looks scarred. He figures that this miscarriage will forever change her; it will forever change him, too.

"Hospital food's terrible." And vending machine food is much better. Besides, he's curious to see if Rachel has stayed all night. He couldn't say he'd be surprised if she has, as Rachel's a good and faithful friend. But, when he enters the waiting room, only his mom remains. She had fallen asleep and looks as if the receptionist or a doctor or a nurse has just awakened her.

"Is she okay, honey?" she gets up. He gulps and looks up at her compassionate eyes.

"Yeah. But she was…really sad and stuff, and we fell asleep and…" he looks like he's about to cry, but he shakes it off, exhaling unevenly. He scratches his head, "I was just gonna get her some food from a vending machine or somethin'." He begins to walk off, but she stops him with her next words, which are spoken hesitantly.

"Finn, I called the Fabray's," she tells him. His eyes widen in shock. No…not Quinn's sorry excuses for parents…they'd probably just yell at her and make her feel worse than she already does. He thinks that they're probably glad she lost the baby, so that now maybe they can go back to pretending this whole thing never happened. It's what they always did, Quinn had said. They just ignore the bad things and pretend they never happened, she had told him.

"What? _Why_? They kicked her out, why should they care?" he's almost yelling now. A couple leaving the hospital looks up at him quizzically. Usually Finn Hudson is aloof, but in matters of great importance, such as this, he can think somewhat logically. And he has logic enough to know that he and Quinn don't want her parents there.

"They're her parents and they should at least know-" she starts.

"I bet they're probably glad she lost the baby," he hisses, turning and walking down the hall before his mother can say anything else to him.

He hates the world right then. He hates Quinn's parents. He kind of hates his mom for calling Quinn's parents. He hates whatever made Quinn miscarry. Overtaken by rage and misery, he explodes and punches a wall. But the outburst doesn't help his mood, nor does it help Quinn. It only makes his fist hurt. He suddenly realizes that he's crying, bawling, actually. He leans against a wall, surrendering, letting his emotions overthrow him. Their child is gone. _Gone._ And now he will never get to know her, never get to hear her first word or see her first step, or see her on her prom or on her wedding day. He knows he's getting ahead of himself, but he can't help but think of all the things that could've been.

They could've been a family, but now they can't.

He could've been the best father the world has ever seen, but now he can't.

She could've made sure that her child was always happy, and could've taken great care of her, but now she can't.

Tears blur his vision, and he can see a person approaching him, but he can't make out their features.

"F-Finn?" the timid voice sounds familiar, and, rubbing his now red-rimmed eyes, he sees Rachel approaching him. He gets up, stumbling for a moment, and leans against the wall. She's never seen him so vulnerable, so broken. Instinctively, she sets down the food she's holding and moves towards him. She takes him into her embrace and lets him cry on her shoulder. His entire body shakes, making in increasingly harder for Rachel to support him with her small frame.

"It's okay," she whispers to him. She rubs his back lightly, comfortingly. She's a bit tired, as she hasn't had a decent night's sleep yet, but she forgets her emotions and concentrates on his. Gosh, he must he heartbroken. She couldn't imagine losing a child, especially as a teen. It would be utterly traumatizing, "Shh." She isn't one for consoling people, but does her best.

He breaks away moments after she shushes him.

"Sorry," he apologizes, totally embarrassed from breaking down like that in public, especially in front of a girl he kind of has a crush on. He starts to walk away, but she catches his hand.

"I-it's okay," she speaks up. He looks back at her, and then down at the items she set on the floor, puzzled, "I-I got some food, y-you know, for you and Quinn." It may have been hospital food, but Finn pays no mind and thanks her.

"Thanks. You can go home, you know, if you want," he looks her in her eyes, his tone gentle.

"I am quite tired," she nearly yawns, but catches herself. Nevertheless, he notices. It's been nice to have someone here for him, but he knows that she's just as tired as he is.

"Thanks, for everything." With one more grin, he leaves her, heading towards Quinn's room with the food she purchased in his hands. She smiles back and brushes the hand that he had held. 


	4. Chapter 4

As Mercedes Jones strolls down the packed hallway of McKinley High, her phone begins buzzing. Cursing it quietly, as she is carrying a ridiculous amount of books, she attempts to set down the school supplies neatly. However, they fall all over the floor, and she cusses again. She flips it open angrily.

"What?" she nearly spits into the phone.

"Hello Mercedes. Did I catch you at a bad time?" None other than Rachel Berry's voice fills her ear, and Mercedes wants to cuss at her for causing her all this trouble, especially since she sounds so calm. But, she controls her temper for once. Steam nearly comes out of her ears.

"Rachel? What do you want?" She doesn't bother to hide the agitation in her voice as she ignores Rachel's question. With her one free hand, she tries to gather her fallen schoolbooks. She doesn't see why Miss Diva Berry cares about her anyway.

"I-I was just going to ask you to tell Mr. Schue that Finn and I won't be at practice today. We're at the hospital."

"And you're at the hospital for…?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. Maybe there's something interesting going on after all…

"I…Look, don't tell anyone this," she is paying full attention to Rachel now, whose voice has quieted, "But Quinn…she had a miscarriage. But don't tell anyone. It's really personal," Rachel adds hastily. She is beginning to wonder if she did the right thing calling Mercedes, but she needed someone to tell Mr. Schue of her and Finn's absence.

"I won't, I promise," Mercedes tells her with a fake sugary tone in her voice.

She hangs up, and immediately rushes off to find Puck.

* * *

Finn returns to Quinn. Her face is blank, appearing to be carved out of stone. It is unmoving. Her eyes have no feeling. Her lips are mostly straight, but are quivering the tiniest bit as if she is soon to break down again.

"Hey," he says carefully. He hands her the food gently, treating her as though she is the most fragile thing he's ever laid eyes on. A small bowl of mashed potatoes steams before her, along with a tiny portion of green beans. She has no appetite anyway, but accepts graciously.

"Thanks," she swallows. She doesn't move to eat the meal. The silence between them isn't comfortable, because he honestly has no clue what to say to her in the state she's in and she doesn't bother to talk. He gets back into bed next to her as she closes her eyes. This room is starting to become a prison to her, and she longs to be out of here. But she knows that she'll never be the same again, even if she does leave this place.

"Yo-you know, I'm still kind of waiting t-to feel her kick a-again. Or move. Or-or something to let me know she's still…" she sniffs, "…there. I wish…" She drifts off hopelessly. What good will wishing do now? None, that's what. Her baby's gone and not coming back. It's a reality she has to face.

But maybe if she tries to forget it, it'll go away…maybe this is all a dream…

"I'm sorry," she says abruptly. Her voice is scratchy and she hardly recognizes it as her own. She isn't sure if she's apologizing for her daughter's true paternity, or because she miscarried.

"Why?" He turns and looks at her, bewilderment etched on his features. She can't bear to meet his eyes, so she keeps hers down. His gentle, innocent, aloof eyes.

"Be-because," she wipes at her eyes, "I must've done something wrong to miscarry." Like cheat on her boyfriend. But maybe there was a real reason. Perhaps she'd eaten something she shouldn't have and it caused harm to the baby, or engaged in an activity that damaged her, like dancing in glee. She shakes the thoughts away. She suddenly remembers that she's neglected her hair lately, but once she realizes that she's worrying over something as trivial as hair, she internally scoffs at herself.

She wonders what she's become.

"It's not your fault-" he doesn't get to finish as a nurse walks into the room. She has light, fluffy blonde hair and smiling eyes. The woman looks like she's good at cheering people up, Quinn decides, but other people who aren't like herself. The nurse looks at the two of them in bed together, and grins, exposing perfectly white teeth. She seems to be flawless. Perfect people like her make Quinn want to puke. But there was a time when she was perfect, uncorrupted. That, however, was erased with a single night with Puck.

She swallows, and feels a lump in her throat. She's been crying so much in the past day that it's becoming almost normal for her to feel the lump blocking her voice, choking out her words.

"Quinn, there's someone here to see you. She says she's your mother," her voice is compassionate, and she looks as if she's one of the few nurses who doesn't pretend to care. Her words snap Quinn back to reality.

She inhales rapidly, and is terrified for a moment, but as soon as the feeling is there, it is replaced with rage.

No, not her mother. She hates her. She despises her. Her mother doesn't understand her or care about her. Her eyes blaze with hatred, and the stoniness reappears on her features. She digs her nails into Finn's hand at the news, causing him to wince. The nerve the woman has after what she had done! Coming here! And for what reason? To make her feel worse? Quinn hadn't thought that things could get much worse, but she was wrong.

"No. Don't let her in." With such fierce resentment in her voice, a normal person wouldn't dare to contradict her, but this nurse does.

"Sweetie, she's your mother. I think she'll help you," the sweet nurse takes her hand, but Quinn jerks out of her grip and shoots the woman a warning look that tells her not to come closer or make another comment, or it will have consequences.

"I said, _don't let her in_," she hisses, "I _hate_ her. She kicked me out. She didn't even care if I had a place to go. She just threw me on the street. _Her own daughter_," her voice breaks. She sounds childish, but she doesn't care. She can feel she's on the edge of hysterics again and sends the nurse away.

* * *

"I'm sorry Mrs. Fabray, but she doesn't want to see you," the nurse tells her sorrowfully as she closes the door behind her. She looks as if she had been hoping that the younger girl would allow her mother to enter too.

Quinn's mother isn't surprised. After all, she hadn't done anything to stop her father from kicking her out. But, she can't give up. She has to see her baby…

"Please, just let me in," she begs.

"I'm sorry, but we can't allow it." She walks away with an apologetic smile, her heels clicking against the white floor with each step. Quinn's mother watches her go sadly.

She _is_ seriously sorry though. But Quinn won't believe that, and she doesn't blame her. She's sad at the thought that her own baby girl should have to go through losing a baby. It's a horrible thing to go through. It's scarring, even.

She knows from experience.

No one's guarding the door, so, stealthily, she inches closer until she's close enough to see Quinn through the crack in it. Her head is leaning on her boyfriend's shoulder, and tears and falling from her eyes freely. Her body is shaking with sobs. The older woman's eyes fall to her stomach, which is now flat. Little pangs of guilt stab at her heart. It isn't possible that _she _caused her daughter's miscarriage is it? What if it was from the stress of being kicked out? No, she can't dare to think of it. It would destroy her inside. She notices that she's close to tears but pulls herself together and steps in.

The moment she enters, the atmosphere shifts and Mrs. Fabray is immediately unsure of her choice. Finn is the first to see her, and he doesn't alert Quinn because she's in the middle of a fit of crying and buried in his shirt. Even he looks like he hates her; she can tell by the fire blazing in his eyes. She gulps and observes the two. She was wrong about him. Just because he got her pregnant doesn't make him a bad guy, she thinks. He looks like he really cares about her. He must be as heartbroken as her; he just doesn't think it's manly to cry. She smiles a tiny smile in his direction and in response he only frowns.

Eventually, Quinn looks up and almost instantaneously she stiffens. Her eyes turn icy. "What are y-you doing here?" She can tell that her daughter is trying to speak evenly. Her sternness startles Mrs. Fabray.

"Quinn, honey-"

"Don't 'honey' me," she seethes, "Why did you come? Did you come to yell at me for being stupid and miscarrying? Or did you come to _celebrate_?" Mrs. Fabray's gasps softly. She would never do such a thing. Quinn doesn't stop there.

"I bet you're happy now," the younger girl accuses, "I-I bet you're glad I lost her. So now m-maybe you two can pretend like this whole thing never happened. Like you always do. Maybe you th-think I can go back to being your perfect, v-virtuous daughter." Her mother's heart sinks at the accusations. She's never seen Quinn this distraught, this inconsolable. She's an emotional wreck. Her mother knows that if Quinn were sane right then, she wouldn't be making such outlandish comments. However, her daughter has every reason to think Mrs. Fabray would be happy when she heard she'd lost the child. She opens her mouth to speak but Quinn cuts her off.

"I can't. And I won't. Even if you told me I could come back home, I wouldn't. I'm staying with Finn, because… I know he loves me," she sucks in a breath sharply, trying to keep from sobbing. Finn looks at his girlfriend, and is astounded by her malicious words and sheer courage, "I _hate_ you. I hate you and dad. Tell him that. Tell him that I'll never forgive him… or you…I'll nev-never…" She stops talking and hides her face in Finn's shirt and weeps, unable to hold the tears back.

Her mother's heart snaps in two. She almost can't believe it. Her own daughter can't hate her _that much_. And this isn't like the times when Quinn was a little girl and her mother wouldn't give her something she wanted and then she told her that she hated her. This is serious, really serious. She looks like she means it. Mrs. Fabray _had_ just kicked her out as if she didn't care where Quinn went or how she got food or how she survived or even what happened to her. But her daughter doesn't know that she'd cried herself to sleep the night that she had kicked her out, sick with worry over her child and guilt over allowing her husband to do something like that and not standing up to him.

"Get out," Quinn growls, "Get out and never come back. I loved my daughter and you know what? I…I-I would give anything in the world for her to have lived." Quinn's face crumples in agony. Her heartfelt words hanging in the air, Quinn's mother leaves miserably and hears her child bawling again like a baby as the door shuts behind her.

As soon as she is in her car and driving, a few tears escape her eyes and slide down her cheeks at the thought of her lost granddaughter.

* * *

"Puck," Mercedes calls down the hallway after the mowhawked boy. He looks over his shoulder at her, indifferent and keeps walking, his hands tucked into his pockets.

"Yeah?" he doesn't bother to turn around when he speaks to her. If there is one thing that bugs the crap out of Mercedes Jones, it is not getting the respect owed to her. Her big, loopy earrings fly behind her as she rushes over to him.

"Puck," she grabs his arm and he finally spins around at the contact.

"What?" he snaps uninterestedly. She isn't looking forward to telling him this. She inhales before speaking.

"Quinn…" Mercedes isn't normally one to not say things bluntly, and sometimes uncaringly, but for some reason these words evade her.

"What about her?" his tone remains unchanging.

"She miscarried, Puck."

* * *

**Note: **Review, please and thank you (:


	5. Chapter 5

**Note: **I'm not quite sure if Finn will ever find out that the baby wasn't his…Obviously things are better for Finn/Quinn if he doesn't, haha. He probably will, though. It wouldn't feel right to end the story without the truth coming out.

Anyways, review, please and thank you. (:

* * *

Mercedes' words don't really register in his brain at first.

"What?" he asks. What is she saying? It can't be true. He had just seen Quinn the other day, pregnant as ever.

"Quinn miscarried."

"What do you mean she miscarried?" he starts to raise his voice after she repeats herself, because she obviously isn't playing a sick joke on him. She sighs at his refusal to comprehend the news. She knows he understands her deep down; he just doesn't want to believe her.

"I mean she lost the baby, Puck," Mercedes' eyes are dismal. Her hands hang at her sides, instead of on her hips as they usually are. All her diva-ness is gone.

And then her words finally sink in. They hit him like a ton of bricks and knock the wind out of him.

She means that she isn't pregnant anymore. That their daughter is gone.

_Dead._

He cringes. He had backed off, just like Mercedes had told him to. He had thought he was doing the right thing. And look where it has got him.

He let Finn think he's the father; he was doing what was best for Quinn and the baby by letting that idiot care for them, or so he thought. And now he's probably there comforting her even when the child wasn't his in the first place. He would've been just as good a father as Finn would. Better.

"_Fuck_…" he mutters under his breath. He exhales, and immediately knows that he can't stay here and finish the school day while Quinn's at the hospital because of something like that. He has to leave, has to get out of here.

It is common knowledge that Quinn's living with Finn now, after her parents kicked her out. But if it had been _him_ there that night when they told her parents, he never would've just stayed silent and stood there stupidly like Finn probably had and just let everything happen and not do a single thing about it. He would've at least socked her dad for doing something like that. And he would've made sure that she wouldn't have cried, wouldn't have felt guilty, like she had done something horribly wrong to be kicked out and that she deserved it. When she hasn't. No one deserves that.

He takes off into a sprint, out the front doors and into his truck. All those laps that Coach Tanaka made the football players run are finally coming in handy. Mercedes watches him go. Maybe her advice to him isn't the smartest thing she ever said, but there's nothing she can do about it now other than hope that he doesn't blow up and let the truth out while Quinn's in such a fragile emotional state.

* * *

She's cried every single tear she can, and, frankly, she's empty. No matter how much grief anyone could dump on her now, she can't cry. There's no tears, no baby, no hope. Now Finn's whispering soothing words to her, doing his best to console her, and he's effectively calmed her down. Her breathing has returned to normal once more instead of the gasps is had been coming in when she wept.

"It's okay…I think she's gone now." She smiles weakly at him and his unsure observation. God, she loves him. But he's only here and not off with Rachel somewhere because of a lie, she reminds herself.

"Yeah," she agrees bitterly, "And she's never going to come back." She's confident that she's not going to be back, after she exploded at her mother like she had. She laces her fingers through his and sighs. She meant what she said when she said that she hated her. The least her mother could've done was stick up for her, and she didn't even bother to do that.

"I was gonna be a real good dad, you know," he states. She nods. Of course he would've. Better than Puck, she's certain.

"You would've." She hates using past tense. It makes her think of what could've been, and what should still be.

"I would've…I would've made sure that she was always taken care of. And I would've helped when you couldn't. I would've protected her from boys, and stuff…" She adjusts herself so he can lean against her shoulder as he exhales shakily. She doesn't tell him that she was planning to give her up for adoption. She strokes his forehead gently, lovingly. She just wants to stay like this forever. She wants the lie to go away; she wants the baby to have been his so much that it eats her up inside every time she sees sadness cross his face over her miscarriage. She wants him to remain ignorant, to never know that he was not the father. In the midst of her wishing, something occurs to Quinn.

"What do you want to name her?" He looks up at her, surprised. He sits up straight as she continues to look at him expectantly, awaiting an answer. He never thought they'd get to name her.

"What?"

"I said: what do you want to name her? We can still name her, you know." The words are painful, but Quinn wants her daughter to have a name instead of being called 'her' or 'the baby'. They'd been calling her Drizzle, and Quinn is almost growing to like the name.

"I still vote for Drizzle," he answers with a forlorn smile as he remembers that day in class when he passed her the note that suggested the name. Back when they thought their baby would get there safely. She grins too, but it doesn't reach her eyes.

_Drizzle. For the endless tears that drizzle down her cheeks._

"Sure." She agrees, and resists the urge to feel the spot where Drizzle once grew. Even if she wanted to, she wouldn't argue with him, "I…it's perfect." He is mildly shocked, seeing as her initial reaction to the name had been one of disbelief and disgust, but then he gets that warm fuzzy feeling inside that reminds him that he loves her and he decides not to question.

And he's happy now. She finally has a permanent name. Although she'll never live to grow into her name, she'll still have one.

* * *

It didn't take long for the news to spread of Quinn and Finn's loss after Jacob Ben-Israel overheard Mercedes and Puck talking of it and wrote about it on his blog, which, surprisingly, it turns about people do read. Now, they sit in glee, with their chairs out of their normal formation and in a circle, while they wait for Mr. Schue to arrive. No one is smiling. The solemn news has everybody down. Even Brittany knows enough to know that something bad must've happened, so her usual aloof happiness isn't about her today. Artie glances around nervously in the quietness of the room. Mercedes doesn't think that she had talked loud enough for anyone but Puck to hear, but, apparently, that weird reporter kid is everywhere.

"Maybe we should visit her," Artie suggests unsurely, finally breaking the deafening silence. Murmurs of assent are heard, and they decide on meeting after school at the local hospital to hopefully brighten Quinn's day.

They're not sure if they can brighten her day after what she's been through, but it's worth the effort.

* * *

As Puck drives to the nearest hospital, he grips the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles turn white. He's going a good twenty miles over the speed limit, but since there are no cops in sight, he doesn't see it as important. He can only think of Quinn and their now…What should he call it? 'Their dead child,' is too brutal, and 'their nonexistent child,' seems careless. He decides to keep talking in present tense, because of course their daughter isn't really gone. She can't be, it doesn't make sense…

He's feeling so many different things at once, but he keeps his jaw shut tightly, grinding his teeth together.

He could be relieved, you know, because now he doesn't have to worry about the responsibility of a kid, but he doesn't. Sad? Definitely. And angry. And confused. And almost everything else on the planet. All at once.

He had taken it for granted that their daughter would live. Not that many people miscarry nowadays anyway, right? It just couldn't happen. No one had considered it. Maybe it sounds kind of weird and not badass, but he had been hoping for her to come. Like, actually waiting for her and caring if she got here all right. Even if he doesn't know it now, Puck loved their unborn child.

He silently curses Quinn's parents. Maybe they made her lose the child. But maybe he made her lose the child, because of the whole sexting thing that may have stressed her out. Or maybe glee made her lose the child. Or maybe she fell and hurt the baby. Or maybe…or maybe. He can 'or maybe' until pigs fly, and it won't do anyone any good.

He hops out of his truck and slams the door loudly behind him once he's arrived. He doesn't bother to put on a jacket, even though it is a chilly day outside. Puck looks up at the huge building looming in front of him and swallows. He isn't sure what he'll face in there but he knows he has to just man up and enter.

He doesn't remember if he locks his truck or not; all he knows is that he's going to see her, even if she doesn't want him there. Because, dammit, that was his child too. He's beyond caring if anyone breaks into it anyway; there's nothing to take.

He storms in, and sees Mrs. Hudson sitting in a chair, half-asleep, half-awake, and halfway through the rather large collection of magazines there in the waiting room. He stops his rushing and looks at her. He makes himself stop scowling, and his expression softens.

"Mrs. H?" he asks, and she jumps. It takes her a few moments to recognize him, but she does after a moment of staring and leaps up to greet him warmly.

"Oh Noah, how sweet of you to come," she envelopes him into a hug, patting the younger boy on the back, "Finn and Quinn are in room one-oh-eight." Of course he'd be in there with her, Puck thinks. She doesn't ask how he found out about Quinn, for which he is grateful. He isn't really even sure how Mercedes found out but it makes him a bit mad that she knew before he did.

He wonders if he is the last to know.

He nods, thanking her, and walks off the room.

* * *

When he finally comes across it, he reaches out to push the door open, but stops himself. Mercedes had told him that he had messed up her life enough already. Should he really see her and ruin it more? Hell, if Mercedes wasn't right enough then, she is even more right now. First, he knocks her up, which ruins her life sufficiently enough, and then she miscarries, which ruins her life even more and not to mention scars her emotionally.

All because of him.

He shoves the door open and walks in without another thought to discourage him, even though he isn't feeling really good about himself right then.

Quinn immediately looks up, and he notices that she looks different, older. Like she's had something happen to her that no one should have to go through, and it's changed her. He's only seen this look once before, and it was on the face of his mother after his father walked out. Her face was never the same after that. This memory hurts, and he decides not to think on it further. He's never seen her in such a state of disarray, with her hand in tangles and no makeup on. Oblivious Finn's face doesn't have the same scarred look as hers, but he certainly doesn't look content.

"Hey Puck," Finn greets him with a sad smile. Puck smirks back coolly and then turns to Quinn, whose eyes aren't looking at him. She almost can't bear to be in the same room with both of them staring at her like she's an extremely breakable item. He knows he shouldn't be surprised that her stomach no longer shows any presence of a child, but he is.

"Hello, Puck," Quinn eventually greets him, although her tone isn't welcoming. An awkward silence lingers in the air while the three of them eye each other, waiting for someone to speak. Puck shoots Quinn a look at says _'we need to talk. Alone.'_ She understands his gaze, and, although she doesn't want to, knows that she has to talk to him or she'll never really be able to live with herself. She squeezes Finn's hand, which Puck notices she's been holding, and smiles at him. But her eyes are dead.

"Finn, do you think you could go get me some barbeque chips from the vending machine?" He nods and returns her smile, obeying without question in a way that makes Puck want to chuckle. He's like a puppy dog that unthinkingly fetches even if he doesn't know what'll happen while he's off to get the ball. Once Finn's gone, Puck takes a few steps closer to the bed. He stuffs his hands into his pockets and looks around the small place. He's never liked hospitals; they're too clean.

"So, I guess you can sext Santana all you want now," she tells him acrimoniously. She stares at a wall blandly, refusing to look at him. Her arms are crossed over her stomach. She marvels how, in just one night, everything that shows she was ever pregnant is gone.

"Like I care," he answers, glazing over the subject of the girl he hardly cares about now without difficulty. He pulls up a chair next to her bed and throws himself into it. He leans back into it and folds his arms. He observes her expressionless face, and notices how distraught she looks and how she's trying to pull herself together. God, she's kind of shaking. He resists the urge to reach out to her.

"Finn cried when he found out I lost her," she states monotonously, "You wouldn't."

"You don't know me."

"Yes I do. You're a womanizing jerk who probably doesn't care his daughter is gone," she accuses frigidly.

She knows she hasn't been anything but miserable and mean this past day, but she really doesn't see a reason to be anything else.

Something snaps in Puck.

"Don't say that," he is suddenly growling, enraged. He stops slouching in the chair and grits his teeth menacingly, "Don't _ever_ say that." He hates being written off as a heartless jerk. He cared about his daughter, still care_s_ about his daughter, and to be told that he doesn't by her own mother is maddening. To be told that by _anyone_ is maddening.

"Why not? It's true-" His anger doesn't seem to faze her, and her frosty tone doesn't change.

"No, it's not," he's close to yelling now. He removes himself from the chair, stalking over to the door, "I know you think I don't care, but you know what, Quinn? I do. Just as much as Finn does. More. So don't _ever_ say that I _didn't care _about her." He holds her gaze indignantly for a moment before he storms out without another word, fuming. He leaves behind a flabbergasted Quinn who is starting to regret saying those things to him.

How could she assume something like that? He doesn't appear _that_ callous, does he? That unfeeling? He was going to be a good dad; he was going to show the world that Noah Puckerman isn't his father, but now his opportunity to do so is gone. He stomps around the halls until he finds a bathroom and enters, still livid.

First making sure it's empty, he then leans over a sink, and he sheds the angry tears that no one thinks he's capable of.


	6. Chapter 6

He hasn't cried since he was little and he was sure that he'd forgotten how to, until now. He feels like he's five, and he hates himself. He can't believe she lost the baby. It had taken time for everything to process but now that it has, he can't bear it. He can't bear the thought of losing the daughter he never got to know, the one he never really had. The one neither of them ever really had.

Guilt flows through his veins. He thinks he's the one who made her lose the child. And he hates himself even more at the thought.

No one will ever know that he cried that day in the bathroom, he decides with finality. His tears will never be seen; they will be forever forgotten. God, he can't believe himself, crying like a fucking baby. He wipes his cheeks off, erasing the wetness from his face. This is not badass.

He knows that everyone thinks that he can't cry, that he can't feel like everyone else. But believe it or not, Noah Puckerman has a heart. He just doesn't show it to many people.

* * *

He leaves the bathroom just in time to see his fellow glee club members entering Quinn's room. Although Santana and Rachel aren't there, he notices. Santana probably hasn't come because of the sexting thing, but he doesn't know why Rachel isn't here and he doesn't care at the moment. It's better if that psycho isn't here anyway. He just follows them back into her room bravely. He isn't sure why he follows; his feet kind of just move on their own, one foot in front of the other. Maybe he had been a tad bit too harsh to her. However, he reasons with himself, her accusations cut him deeply, made him think that maybe if he had attempted to be a parent that he would've failed like his father. He has ever right to react like he had. At that moment, Mike notices his presence and acknowledges him, thrusting him out of his brooding thoughts.

"Hey, dude. Why weren't you at glee?" Puck doesn't answer. Mike waits and then shrugs when he realizes that he isn't going to get an answer.

Finn's back in the bed with Quinn, his arm wrapped securely around her, seemingly unwilling to ever let her go. She is happy in his embrace, and the first genuine smile since what feels like forever crosses her face at the sight of all her friends gathered to visit her. But the deadness in her eyes remains. Puck kind of doubts it will leave her face for a long time, if ever.

"Hey guys," she says to them warmly, the polar opposite of how she had treated Puck when he had arrived to see her. Tina holds a small balloon the club bought from the gift shop. Puck is sure that the hospital gift shop doesn't have balloons that say 'Sorry for your miscarriage!' on them (but if they did, who the hell would buy them?), and he can't make out what this one says from his position behind everyone. He cranes his neck to get a better view of Quinn, but Matt's tall frame is blocking his view.

"We're…very sorry for you loss," Artie says uncomfortably. Quinn grins at him and chokes back tears. She used to join in with the other Cheerios when they teased him, she recalls suddenly. It has taken getting to know him to realize the error of her ways. It has taken becoming one of them to realize the error of her ways. She starts to feel terrible as she digs deeper into her pile of memories from before her pregnancy. It shocks her to realize how many of them contain instances in which she picked on the glee club, insulted them and threw slushies at them. At one point, she teased _every one_ of the glee kids - except for the jocks and cheerios. The fact causes these weird little pangs at her already fragile heart.

And now they're all she has left. Rachel was so right that it's killing her. She then realizes that Santana and Rachel aren't here, and she doesn't bother to inquire as to why.

"Yeah, me too." She swallows the lump in her throat and bites back tears, as she is tired of sobbing, and crying, and just all around throwing a pity party for herself.

"So are you okay?" Brittany steps forward and inquires dumbly. Okay? She is nowhere near _'okay.'_ She'll never be _'okay,'_ again.

"I just had a _miscarriage_. Do you _think_ I'm okay?" she hisses at the blonde. She doesn't care that Brittany probably never understood what is going on in the first place but she doesn't care, because she's tired and cranky and stupid questions always make her mad.

"Wait, what's a miscarriage?" the Cheerio asks, sheer confusion spread out on her features. The scary part is: Quinn is almost certain that she really doesn't know. And she isn't about to explain, so she eyes the other glee club members to explain for her. She can't talk about what just happened to her and her daughter. She just can't. Finn isn't quite sure how to respond to Brittany's unintelligent question, so he doesn't. He just tightens his grip around Quinn.

Meanwhile, in the back of the room, Puck cringes at her ridiculous question. Brittany's always been kind of dim. He smirks when he sees Kurt lean over and whisper something in Brittany's ear. In response, the Cheerio's mouth forms an 'o,' as she comprehends what she just said.

"Oh, sorry," she finally apologizes, but still doesn't look like she understands. Quinn smirks bitterly. She normally hates pity but right now she is in no mood to snap at anyone anymore. In that same moment, she notices that Puck is standing in the back of the room. She catches her breath at the sight of him, and Finn notices her sharp intake of breath. After assuring him she's fine, she returns Puck's steely gaze. She feels a little bad, even though she knows that she had done what was right at the time by lying to Finn.

Right?

Of course she had. There is no question. But his expression nags at her because she can't read it, she can't read him.

_What was right at the time._

Her thought lingers for a moment. What was right at the time and what is right now can have huge differences.

* * *

Eventually, the club files out. Puck leaves last, chancing one last stare at Quinn. She swallows and shivers under his gaze. He leaves Finn and Quinn alone. She feels as if a weight has been on her chest and with his leaving she is free to breathe once again.

"Never leave me, Finn," she leans against his shoulder, a place that is becoming increasingly more familiar and supporting to her. She thinks of how, if he left her, she might have to run to Puck, whom she's certain now hates her. She can't blame him. He can never find out the truth, he just can't. It would destroy them both. Her voice quiets to a scratchy whisper, "Please never leave me."

"I won't," he promises her, "I'll never leave, I promise."

She knows that if the truth ever comes out, that promise won't be kept.

* * *

Even though she's breaking her 'Perfect Attendance Since Preschool,' record, Rachel doesn't arrive at school that day. After washing up and changing, she comes back to the hospital, just in time to see Noah Puckerman leaving behind the rest of the glee club, his head down. A few Gleeks acknowledge her, but most just walk past with a sullen expression on their faces. She continues walking to the building.

"Noah," she acknowledges tightly once he's in earshot of her, trying to sound somewhat surprised even though she had seen him minutes before. She stops a few feet away from him and he looks up at her with his piecing and unreadable expression plastered on his face. Things have been awkward at best since they broke up, and she hasn't been comfortable around him. Anyway, something's off about him, she can just tell. Call it her sixth sense.

"Berry," he says blandly, "Why're you here?" He stuffs his hands in his pockets and waits for her answer. She's caught off guard at his immediate, and somewhat defensive, question.

"I came to see how she's doing-" she begins to tell a part-lie, but he catches her dishonest tone and eyes.

"You came for Finn."

"You came for Quinn." Damn, she's smart. She looks at him long and hard and, call her crazy, but she's certain she sees a faint redness on the outside of Puck's eyes, "Your eyes are red." That's when Puck starts walking away, quickly. She hurries after him and catches his arm. Her suspicions rise, "You were crying." His fleeing is only giving her reason to question him more. He shakes her off. She knows when someone's been crying, and Puck's definitely been crying.

"No, I wasn't," he says impatiently, eager to get away from the crazy girl and into the comfort of his truck. They are now no longer by the hospital entrance, but in the middle of it's parking lot. A car speeds by and almost hits both of them in the process. Rachel gasps and gives him a scolding glare, admonishing him for endangering her by continuing to walk away instead of turning around and facing her.

"Then explain to me why your eyes are red." God, she's persistent. She folds her arms and taps her foot while waiting for him to speak. He starts heading towards his truck once more, and this time he reaches it and climbs in hastily. As he shuts the door, she stops him by standing in front of his car, arms folded expectantly. She isn't one to date someone and then just forget every feeling she ever had toward them. Besides, she can't stand not knowing something. It is the Rachel Berry way: to always know, and, when something is not known, to find out. Given that the something is findable without killing her or causing her some form of bodily harm. And, she also really hates being ignored.

"Noah!" she calls his name in hopes of making him stay and explain to her what on earth is going on. He rolls his eyes and rolls down his window.

"Ask Quinn. Now move before I hit you," he tells her, and starts his car. The roaring causes Rachel to step back, fearful that he may actually carry out his threat. She exhales lividly. The nerve of him! Threatening to hit her with his car…He speeds off, however, without carrying out this threat and she can see that he doesn't look back.

She has to know, she just has to.

* * *

Quinn's allowed to go later that day. Finn's hand never leaves hers; she won't allow it to. She blinks at the sudden bright light of the now almost-setting sun. Maybe the light would make others smile at its radiance and make them happy that they're finally out of that place, maybe it would make others cry at the thought of returning to the world without a loved one or with a terrible disease. Quinn doesn't smile or cry. Her world is gray, the sun isn't bright, and she's only partly aware that Finn's now talking to her. The drive to Finn's home to quiet and the atmosphere in the car could be cut with a knife, and she is all kinds of exhausted once they're home. She falls onto Finn's bed, within seconds falling fast asleep.

And that's when the nightmares start.

* * *

**Note:** I don't like this chapter a whole lot, but I'd be delighted to hear your thoughts :D


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **I haven't done one of these things since I always forget, so here it is.

I have not, do not, and will not probably ever own Glee. It and the characters belong to their respective owners. This is simply a work of fiction. No infringement intended.

* * *

_She's wearing a white dress and standing in a blindingly white room. There's no door; she notices that first. No escape. She's trapped. The room is freezing, and, though there are no open windows - or windows at all for that matter - she swears she can feel a cold wind blowing through the space. After a moment of utter confusion, severe pain begins to shoot through her, the source of which being her stomach. It is crippling pain. She cries out, and screams, and does everything she can to get someone to notice her, to get someone to help her. But there's no one there. No Finn, no Puck, not even someone from the glee club to help her. A red liquid trickles down her leg, and the room suddenly smells rusty, like blood. Blood…Now all she can think of is the blood. It's making her sick. The room is no longer white, but red. A horrible and bloody red. She can only stare in terror as it pools around her feet, and that's when she sees the tiny scrap of humanity in the middle of the rust-colored liquid. Her baby. Her daughter. Her child. Her everything is now just a little speck in the sea of copper. _

_She tries to scream, but can make nothing other than a pathetic squeak. It is a mortifying feeling of helplessness, being unable to move or speak. Horror freezes her body. She can only watch as the pools of blood continue to grow. It looks like a scene out of a cheap horror film. Her knees eventually give out from the panic, and she falls into the copper liquid. Her white dress is stained now, splotches of red covering it, the virginal color tainted. She lifts a bloodstained palm and looks at it in disgust. What is becoming of her? What's going on? The walls are closing in on her at an alarming rate, and she's sobbing so hard that it is a wonder she can still breathe. Unable to control herself anymore, she falls down in the pool around her. She's losing everything. Her tears mix with red. This is the end…_

_Then everything stops. The redness disappears, and now she is back in the white room. The stains on her dress are gone. She becomes aware of a tiny weight in her arms and, to her delight, looks down to see a cooing infant daughter. Her face lights up with motherly joy. For a moment she's sure she's safe, that the horrible red fear is gone. But she is wrong. She feels an invisible force grab her daughter away. She fights back with every ounce of strength in her body, desperate to hold on, but to no avail. Her baby girl is gone. The warm place where her daughter used to lie turns icy. She shivers. Somehow she knows that she'll never see her again. _

_All at once, Puck appears, and all around him, the room blackens. His face is hardened with hatred. The kind of hatred that lets Quinn know that she has gravely insulted him. _

"_Don't _ever_ say that I _didn't care_ about her," he hisses. He stalks forward menacingly. She cowers under his gaze. And then she sees Finn. He's far away, too far away to help her. His expression is sorrowful, and yet, still sweetly stupid-looking. His puppy dog eyes have the kind of look that one gets when someone they love betrays them. He knows the truth. It's all over. _

"_Why?" is all he asks, "Why did you do it?" She knows what he's talking about all too well. She opens her mouth and tries to speak but, yet again, she cannot make a sound. Puck growls again. _

"_Don't _ever_ say that I _didn't care_ about her."_

"_Why? Why did you do it?"_

_They keep speaking, their voices now overlapping as a sort of chant. She tries to block the voices out by pressing her hands to her ears, but they continue in her head. She's going insane; she knows it. She's not sure why she lied. She had thought it had been right at the time. Puck still advances towards her, and now Finn has joined him. They walk side by side, yet seem unaware of the other's presence. Two choices to make, two different paths that can change the course of her life. But now, they don't look like they'll let her pick between them. She's lost her chance to choose. It's too late._

"_Don't _ever_ say that I _didn't care_ about her."_

"_Why? Why did you do it?"_

"_Don't _ever_ say that I _didn't care_ about her."_

"_Why? Why did you do it?"_

She doesn't know, she doesn't know…

* * *

She screams, a bloodcurdling sound, and breaks herself free of the nightmare. Her body flies up in the bed. Her body is coated in sweat, and her breath is coming in gasps. She is as pale as a ghost. The sheets around her are tangled; she must have been tossing and turning during the nightmare. In that instant, she breaks into tears, sobs heavier than anything she's ever cried, even harder than the ones she cried when she first found out she lost the child. The nightmare has been the perfect combination of everything she fears, the perfect amalgamation of all the negative things in her life to push her over the edge. It's changed her. And seeing the face of her daughter, the face that she'll never get to see…

"What's wrong?" Finn springs up in bed too, instantly alert. He notices his girlfriend curled into a little ball, crying. She scared the crap out of him. He runs a hand over his face while the scene in front of him processes.

Within seconds, she's in his arms, attempting to tell him what has made her so inconsolable. She sputters; she can't form a sentence. Her mouth moves, but nothing coherent comes out.

"Oh, F-Finn. I-i-it was awful. I-I-I was in a room, and there w-was blood, and-and then I saw the baby…She-she was fine. B-but something took her away. Her f-face…she was s-so beautiful. So…beautiful." She doesn't mention Finn and Puck's roles in the nightmare.

She's never felt anything like this. And she'd thought she'd felt it all. She's never felt lost like she feels it now; she's never felt misery like she feels it now. The dream has trapped her and forced her to face everything she doesn't want to in a most dreadful, inescapable way. She feels some kind of weight pressing down on her, crushing her, and then, suddenly, all feeling leaves her. The emptiness, the pain…It's gone. She's been pushed over the edge. She's finally broken. She's gone inside. Hollow.

She stops crying, and Finn's worried that she's died of grief or something like it.

"Quinn?" he kisses her forehead, and she looks up at him. He meets her eyes, and she doesn't look like Quinn to him. The Quinn he knows doesn't look like this one.

"It was just a nightmare," her voice is a disturbing monotone, like one you'd hear in a scary movie. She sniffs, "Let's go back to sleep." He doesn't understand her sudden mood change at all. Her tone is strangely familiar, but he can't remember where he's heard it before.

"But you said you had a nightmare-" he begins, dumbstruck.

"And that's all it was. A nightmare. Go back to sleep." The way she's speaking is scaring him. He feels as if the girl lying next to him isn't his girlfriend; she isn't anybody he's ever met before. She seems like an empty and despaired soul that has no reason for living. He takes her freezing cold hand and laces his finger through it. He falls back asleep within seconds, because this past day has been draining for him. The last thing he feels before surrendering to sleep is her hand in his. He smiles in his slumber.

Sleep doesn't come quite as easily to her, and Quinn lays awake for most of the remaining night. She can't stop the scenes from her dream from replaying in her head again and again. She remembers them so vividly that's it scaring her. She's never remembered anything that clearly, so there should be no reason that this is engraved in her brain like it is.

Quinn pulls the covers back over herself, and tells herself that that will be the last time she ever shows emotion.

* * *

She goes back to school tomorrow, despite Finn's mom's pleas to stay home and recover. The doctors had said she is perfectly fine to go back to school anyway. Besides, she can't just lie around and think about her lost daughter; she has to do something to occupy her time, to take her mind off of it. She'll go even crazier if she stays here.

She holds Finn's hand when she walks into school. The students migrate to the sides of the hall, avoiding her like the plague. This is worse than when people found out that she'd joined glee, worse then when they'd found out that she was pregnant. She's done so many things that have killed her social status that she is irredeemable in their eyes. Though the miscarriage wasn't her fault, half of them have probably assumed she just gave in and aborted.

She can hear them whisper, she isn't stupid or deaf. She knows that even the ones she can't hear are about her.

"I didn't know you could get an abortion when you're like, four months along," a girl hisses to someone else.

"Maybe she's happy. I mean, now she doesn't have to have a kid in high school," another whispers spitefully with a wicked grin. That's what hurts the most; the accusations that she's glad her baby's gone.

"I doubt Coach Sylvester will let her back on the squad, even if she's isn't pregnant anymore. I mean, who would?" a Cheerio Quinn used to be friends with comments to another Cheerio. They've turned on her, she realizes. They used to be her friends. She doesn't bother to look at them. She can't look at any of her tormentors without crumpling under their stares.

"Hey, don't listen to them," Finn speaks to her gently once she's at her locker. He's sort of like her bodyguard, and he shoots a hostile glare at anyone who whispers about her or stares. And generally, people back off, seeing as he is the quarterback of the football team and frighteningly muscular.

Quinn gets what she needs from her locker and turns back to Finn.

"How can I? They're at every corner just _waiting_ to say something about me." He sees sorrow flash in her green eyes for a moment, but it is there and gone within a second and then they return to looking bleak. She looks away, and spots a pair chuckling in her direction. Finn sees her staring at them and glares, and they stop almost instantaneously. Even if he is as low as Quinn is on the popularity chain now, he still has enough strength to give anyone a good punch for whispering about her, and that fact shuts most people up. She has nothing on anyone in this school anymore. She hates having nothing. She used to have her looks, but now they're ruined by the lines on her face from having a miscarriage. She used to have Cheerios, but she clearly doesn't anymore. She used to have her popularity, but it's gone. It's all gone. If she hadn't vowed not to show emotion she would break down and bawl at the thought.

"They don't matter." He glares at the students until they walk away. He takes her petite hand in his. This whole situation has made him a little less dumb, he notices. Now he at least knows when to console Quinn, and has an idea of what to say when he needs to. She pulls her hand back. He doesn't understand her reaction.

"It does kind of matter when ninety percent of the school is ridiculing you. You know what they said?" her voice catches for an instant but she clears her throat, "They said that they think I got an abortion. An _abortion_. I would never do that, Finn." Her voice is but a monotone whisper with a hint of hurt in it.

"I know you wouldn't. But you still got glee and me. I love you Quinn. I'm never gonna leave, and I'll, uh, beat up the next person who says anything bad about you." She nods, and he presses his lips upon hers. She believes him. How can she not? She doesn't think that she can doubt him now, after she's betrayed him like she has, after he's believed her lies like he has. She hadn't realized how much she missed his kiss, missed his touch. It makes her feel something other than pain again.

The embrace isn't long, but it is loving and reassuring. He slips his strong arm around her shoulders as they walk to Spanish. Even if the students continue to steer clear of her, she still has him on her arm. It makes her feel a tad bit better.

"Hey, you wanna go to glee today? You don't have to, you know." She shakes her head.

"I need to occupy myself. Or else I think of…" she drifts off painfully, gulping, "Her."

* * *

After Spanish, Quinn gets called into Ms. Pillsbury's office. It really doesn't surprise her. She knows that Mr. Schue told the guidance counselor about what happened to her, because he had been looking at her with troubled eyes throughout class, as if he wanted to say something to her but couldn't find the words to do so. He must have heard about it from one of the glee club members. They should've just minded their own business, Quinn thinks resentfully. It was Rachel; she just knows it. That diva told him. That diva must've told everyone.

She doesn't need anyone to invade her life any more than it already has been, and if any of the adults really want to help, they should just back off.

She arrives at the door to her office and waits until Emma looks up. It's not that she doesn't like Ms. Pillsbury. But she can't talk to her. She doesn't think that she can talk to anyone but Finn, because only he can understand how she feels. The guidance counselor can't even begin to fathom the emotional conflicts occurring inside her at every given second, she decides.

"Oh, hello Quinn. Why don't you, um, take a seat?" she motions to the chairs in front of her. The younger girl sits down and Emma folds her hands on top of her desk. Her blouse is red. The color makes Quinn nauseous, and she wants to leave the room as soon as she notices it. The walls…they're moving in on her… "Now, I heard about…what happened. I just want to let you know that if you ever need someone to talk to, my office is always open." Emma sees Quinn looking around with a puzzling expression of unease on her face. She notices that the girl is digging her nails into the chair and glancing around anxiously.

"Are you okay, Quinn?"

"No, yeah. Look, thanks for the offer, but I'm fine," Quinn reassures her unconvincingly. The nervousness ceases on her face once she knows that the guidance counselor has seen it. Emma can quite honestly say that she doesn't like the look in Quinn's eyes; the unmotivated and dull look in her eyes. The guidance counselor had at least hoped that she'd be willing to talk about it, and now she has nothing more to say to the girl. She sighs at her failure to get Quinn talking. Kids never seem to open up to her. She isn't that scary, is she? Of course, she knows people think she's weird because of her aversion to germs, but that doesn't mean she's any less of a listener than someone who isn't terrified of germs.

"Well, um, that's all then. Have a nice day, Quinn," she smiles, but Quinn doesn't return it and simply leaves without another word. That was just a waste of time, the blonde thinks. It hasn't done any good. No kind of help she can ever get can ever make her forget what she's been through.

Something's wrong, Emma knows it. Quinn's not fine and the problem is: she doesn't look like she's willing to let anyone in to help her with it. Emma sighs and pulls out a wipe, scrubbing at a spot on her desk that's been annoying her for a while.

"Hey, you talk to Quinn?" She hears Will's voice and looks up to find the Spanish teacher leaning against the doorway and watching Quinn leave.

"Yes, um, I did, actually," Emma tosses the wipe out and gestures for Will to sit. He plops himself down in a chair.

"She must be broken up. I mean, I can hardly imagine what it would be like if Terri miscarried. And to have it happen as a teenager…She must be going through hell," he shakes his head, a pained expression on his face. He doesn't see Emma grimace at the mention of his wife's name.

"I, um, tried to talk to her about it but she said she was fine," Emma exhaled daintily, "She isn't fine, Will. It doesn't look like she'll, um, let anyone in to help her. She probably thinks that she can do this alone, but Will, she can't. Gosh, she's only got Finn to help her. And glee club, I-I guess. I mean, her parents kicked her out, and I've seen an, um, good portion of the school ridiculing her. I'm afraid of what she might do to herself if she doesn't get some kind of help…" she cringes. There's a good chance that Quinn won't harm herself, but with her apparent depression and her hormones from pregnancy still running rampant, God knows what might happen. The redhead shivers at the thought.

"You don't think she'd…" Neither of them says it, but he understands what she means.

"Well, um, her hormones from pregnancy are likely still running wild even after she, um, lost the baby. I-I not saying that she will, but maybe you should talk to her. I think she trusts you a little more." Emma smiles. People always seem to trust Will. He's just one of those guys.

"I'll try. Well, I gotta go, glee's in a few minutes." He sighs and bids her goodbye and leaves her office.

There's a good chance that Quinn won't, but that isn't to say that there's not a chance she will.

* * *

"Hey, what did Ms. P want?" Finn walks up to her as she exits the guidance counselor's office. Quinn clutches her bag in her hands tighter, causing her pale knuckles to turn even paler.

"She wanted to know if I was okay," she doesn't look at him as he begins to walk beside her, "I told her I'm fine," she stops walking abruptly and turns to him. He stops as well, "I'm fine." She looks at him with those lifeless eyes, and than casts her eyes downward, repeating her statement as if trying to convince him that she's fine. As if trying to convince _herself_ that she's fine.

"Huh?"

"I'm fine. All this wasn't…wasn't that big a deal. It's better if I don't think about it. She's…" she swallows, "She's gone and she's not coming back and I shouldn't think about it." Finn is shocked at her. Not that big a deal? This is (was…Finn doesn't know whether he should talk as if she isn't gone, even if she is) their child they're talking about. Their own flesh and blood…Her voice cuts into his thoughts sharply.

"…You can stop treating me like I'm some fragile…thing. I won't break if you say something the wrong way. Maybe…maybe it's better if we go on like this never happened." Again, that horrid monotone. He hates it.

Like this never happened…how can she do that? Finn knows he can't. He'll never forget their daughter, he's sure. He's about to say something, but she halts him once more.

"What-" Finn starts, but Quinn cuts him off by grabbing his arm and pulling him towards glee forcefully.

"We're going to be late for practice."

And then, he realizes what her tone reminds him of. It reminds him of how she was before she got pregnant, as the reigning ice queen of McKinley High. It reminds him of how she sounded when she would insult the glee club. It reminds him of when she would constantly make cruel remarks about his unintelligence. He still loved her when she was like that, but he's gotten used to knowing a softer side of her, a side that shows she has a heart. He's fallen in love with another side of her, he realizes suddenly.

He hopes that side comes back, because he isn't sure if he can fall back in love with an unsympathetic ice queen. He knows how badly that sounds, and how much he wishes it weren't true, but he can't help it. He's as grief-stricken as her, but he hasn't seemingly lost all emotion like she has.

He isn't sure what to do, so he doesn't utter another word as they walk towards the music room.

* * *

Will arrives home and the smell of dinner fills his nostrils almost instantly. He smiles and pecks his wife on the cheek affectionately. She grins back while swirling the spoon in the pot.

"Hey honey. How was your day?" she inquires, while stirring the stew she cooks. Sweat beads form on her brow from standing over the steaming meal before her. He sighs, and she knows that it must have been a bad one. He has another one of those looks on his face. She lifts of spoonful of the food to sample it while awaiting his reply.

"Not good. Quinn Fabray had a miscarriage," he says solemnly as heads into the bedroom to change.

Terri drops the spoon into the stew and almost chokes on the small bit she tasted.

Quinn Fabray? Not the Quinn Fabray that's going to give her her baby, surely? There must be some other Quinn Fabray who miscarried…but, honestly, how many other pregnant teens named Quinn Fabray in Lima are there?

"What?" she whispers, her eyes widening further than she thought possible.

She begins to panic. Everything had depended on Quinn's safe delivery of her child. Everything meaning everything in her relationship with Will. Without Quinn's baby, he will leave her. But her baby's gone. She has no child to adopt now. And Will will eventually find out that she's faking when she doesn't have a baby in a few months.

Everything rested upon this…_everything_. Now her only hope of making things work is gone.

"Oh my gosh…oh my gosh…" She forgets the stew and rushes over to call her sister. Kendra always has all the answers. She's the smart one. She'll fix this. She has to. Luckily, Will is in the bedroom and cannot see how near to fainting Terri really is. She dials the phone frantically, punching in the wrong keys twice. When she finally gets it right, she starts pacing about the kitchen, fanning herself to keep from having a nervous breakdown.

"Hello?" Kendra's voice questions lazily on the other end of the line.

"Kendra, it's Terri. That Quinn girl, she miscarried," she doesn't attempt to keep the distress out of her voice and gets to the point straight away.

"What?" Kendra's voice is disbelieving, and she also sounds like she has a mouth full of food.

"Quinn Fabray. The one who was going to give me her baby. She miscarried, Kendra! Oh my gosh…what am I going to do?" Her voice rises with fright. Kendra, however, recovers from shock easily and takes to calm her sister.

"Terri. Terri! Listen to me. Calm down. All we need to do is get you another baby-"

"But where, Kendra? What other pregnant girl is going to give me her baby? Will's going to find out and then our marriage will be over…" She begins taking calming breaths to stop her hyperventilating. The burning smell of the stew that she left unattended hasn't registered in her mind yet, as the overwhelming dread at what will become of her and Will's marriage has dominated her senses.

Out of the blue, something occurs to Kendra. A devilish grin unfolds on her face at the other end of the phone.

"We don't need a baby, Terri," she tells her sister calmly. Terri knows this tone of voice Kendra is using; it means that she's come up with another, better plan. She doesn't know how Kendra can come up with a plan to fix _this_. It must be sinister if it's better than Terri's plan to adopt Quinn's baby.

"What? Of course we need a baby! I can't just hand him a doll and tell him it's his child-"

"You faked a pregnancy, right?"

"Yeah," Terri isn't sure she likes where this is headed.

"Now all we gotta do is have you fake a miscarriage."

* * *

**Note: **Honestly, I'm not sure why Terri didn't just fake a miscarriage in the show. Not that a miscarriage is ever something to be taken lightly and faked, but…you get my point.

Review, please and thank you.


	8. Chapter 8

**Note: **Someone commented on a Puck/Rachel relationship and, while I do ship them together, I don't have the first clue of how to write them. So, I'll leave that writing to other people with a greater understanding of their characters.

Review, please and thank you.

* * *

The funeral for her daughter is the next day. Finn's mom pays for it, even though Quinn begs her not to, telling her that she doesn't need money for anything other than a burial plot to bury the minuscule remains of her daughter. It hurts Quinn and Finn to be there, but they still go. If she doesn't go, she reasons, she'll never be able to live with herself.

It doesn't rain like it does at funerals in the movies. It's sunny out, and Quinn thinks that Mother Nature must be playing some kind of cruel joke on her by making it a wonderful day outside while the funeral for her child is going on at the same time. It doesn't matter. The sun can shine all it wants to. Her world is still gray.

She watches as all the glee club members get out of their cars. Mr. Schuester and Mrs. Schuester also come. Quinn makes eye contact for a moment with the woman whom she was going to give the baby to, and then looks away. She wonders abruptly how she'll get another child to pass off as Will's. Puck slams the door to his truck as he exits it, causing her head to snap in the direction of the sudden noise. But Quinn doesn't look him in the eyes. She can feel his hateful stare on her as he walks over to the other side of the tent under which the ceremony is being held. It takes all of her not to look back.

He'll always know that her child was his, even if no one ever else does. That's what bugs her. He'll always _know. _It will be so much easier to go on if there isn't always someone who can expose her for who she really is walking in the same hallways as her, taking the same classes as her. She trembles slightly, and Finn places a hand on her back to comfort her.

Ms. Pillsbury comes. Her mother arrives, minus her father, which doesn't surprise her. Her father's probably glad, glad that he won't have a bastard grandchild after all. Most of the glee club member's parents also attend. Quinn spots Rachel's two gay dads as they step out of their car with Rachel, who comes over to offer her condolences before the service starts.

"I'm very sorry for your loss," Rachel speaks solemnly. Neither of them makes eye contact.

"Yeah, me too." Rachel is surprised that her voice has no hint of sadness in it, no hint of anything. She must be in shock, she assumes. She stands there awkwardly for another moment before walking off.

* * *

Almost everyone wears black, except Brittany, who wears dark purple. She probably doesn't even know why she's here, Quinn realizes. She wonders, then, why Brittany came in the first place. She wonders why any of them came, why any of them should care after she's been so cruel to them. But none of them look angry with her. They look like they feel for her, like they actually care.

She almost laughs at the thought. Who should care about insignificant little Quinn Fabray now?

Quinn can't listen to the priest. She just clings to Finn for dear life and presses her face against his chest. But she doesn't cry. She can't. She's promised herself that she'll never show emotion again. No tears threaten to spill anyway. She thinks she sees a few tears slide down Finn's cheeks when she glances up at him, but she isn't sure. He'll claim its allergies anyway. Although she isn't looking at the people around her, she knows that he's the only one crying. Everyone but Finn and Quinn have no real reason to cry. Well, and Puck, she adds reluctantly. It hadn't been anyone else's daughter. And since Quinn and Puck won't cry, that leaves Finn.

Funny, she thinks bitterly, Drizzle wasn't even his.

She finally looks at Puck, and he's looking back. He's glaring, unsurprisingly and almost has an aura of darkness surrounding him. He appears to be grinding his teeth together furiously. She casts her eyes downward. She can't stand looking at him after the harsh words the pair had exchanged in the hospital. She isn't sure if she regrets it or not.

The service ends as quickly as it began, and Quinn's mother approaches her. She tries to avoid the woman but her mother isn't having any of it. She steps in the younger girl's path as she moves in hopes of escaping.

"What do you want?" Quinn asks. Her mother's eyes soften, and she reaches into her purse, pulling out an envelope wordlessly. She holds it out to Quinn, who eyes it suspiciously.

"What's in there? An official document disowning me?" she hisses coldly.

"Open it," her mother doesn't smile because she knows that this gesture – or any - isn't likely to get her daughter to forgive her. But it's the least she can do. Quinn obliges hesitantly. When she does, she suppresses a gasp when her eyes meet a small fortune in green.

"What is this?" she growls. She counts the bills. It's enough to pay for more than half of the funeral.

She wants to curse at her mother, scream and yell at her, but she doesn't. She can't. Not at her child's funeral, at least.

"It's to help pay for the funeral. I heard that Mrs. Hudson paid for all of it, and I know how tight she is on money-"

"Take it back. I don't want your filthy money. It's not going to make me forgive you. Nothing's ever going to make me forgive you," she spits. How dare she? Giving her money like she's some charity case…She almost screams in livid agony at the thought. Because she knows that now, living with the financially impaired Hudsons, she sort of is.

"I know," pain crosses the older woman's face, "But I won't take it back."

Quinn looks at the money again. It's so tempting, but the reasonable side of her brain tells her that she can't take this, and won't. It's soiled money. Worst of all, it's her father's money.

She's ashamed that their blood flows through her veins, forever tying her to them even if they disown her and she disowns them.

"Where did you get all this?" She can't suppress her curiosity and speaks although she would rather not. She counts the bills again to make sure that she hasn't miscounted. She hadn't.

"Me and your father's banking account. If I took any more, he'd know something's wrong," Mrs. Fabray tells her. She takes a deep breath before continuing, "I know that this, or anything, isn't going to make you forgive me. But it's all I can do. I can't offer to let you come home. Your father won't allow it-"

"Because God forbid you should contradict him," Quinn narrows her eyes and scoffs. She digs her nails in the sides of the envelope. The sides crumple at the pressure.

"You know I would if I could-" the older woman tries desperately. Quinn immediately understands why she's unwilling to say anything to the man she hates to call her father. If she brings it up, he might throw her out as well. And her mother's never had to work for a living, coming from a wealthy family and being provided for all her life. Her mom would have to _work_ for a living and heaven knows she can't do that.

"No you wouldn't. Because if you did he'd kick you out too. He'd do what he did to me to you. I don't want your money. I don't want _his_ money." She lets the envelope fall to the ground. She sucks in a breath that shudders with rage, "I made _one mistake_ and you two threw me out like some kind of…garbage. I'm not sure if either of you ever loved me. Leave me alone. Please."

With those words, she turns on her heel, her black knee length dress swirling around as she moves. She wishes she hadn't said please like a small, imploring child.

Mrs. Fabray picks up the envelope and walks off to find Mrs. Hudson to give it to her. If Quinn won't take it, maybe Mrs. Hudson will. She can't let it end like this, can't let her daughter hate her for the remainder of her life.

* * *

As Quinn heads towards their car, she runs into Mrs. Schuester. This day just keeps getting better and better. The former cheerleader doesn't hesitate to sling nasty words at the woman.

"So what're you going to do now that you have no baby to take?"

Quinn doesn't say 'adopt,' because, in truth, Terri wasn't going to adopt Drizzle. She was going to _take_ her and use her to cover up her lie.

Terri looks caught off guard and she stumbles for words for a moment before answering.

"Kendra was planning on having me fake a miscarriage," she answers with faked confidence when inside she feels incredibly guilty about accepting her sister's plan.

Fake a miscarriage. Quinn almost can't believe she just heard that. Why would anyone want to fake such an awful ordeal? Why would want to make the ones close to them think that they lost a baby if they didn't? It's scarring and it's life changing and Quinn's certain that Terri's insane if she wants to fake something like that. And Mr. Schue…she'll hurt him, badly…

"You don't know what you're going to do to him," she speaks hoarsely, miserably, as she thinks of Finn's face contorted in grief at the grim news of her miscarriage. She swallows to steady her voice, "You-you don't know what you're going to do to him inside, if you make him think you miscarried. It's scarring. It'll change him. But you…it won't change you. You'll still be the same lying, selfish person you are now. Only you know that there never was a child. You'll never know what it's like to lose a baby. _Never._ And you'll hurt and destroy him inside for your own selfishness." Quinn's surprises herself, "You shouldn't want anyone you love hurting if they don't need to be." She notices Finn talking to Rachel, her petite hand placed on his arm caringly and him wiping at his cheeks, wet with tears.

She cringes as she thinks of how she's let Finn think he's the father and how she's let him cry for "his" daughter and how she's let him be scarred for a reason that he doesn't even need to care about. She's just as bad as Terri, she realizes all of a sudden. Just as bad, and maybe even worse, because she's hurt Finn by lying and Puck by denying him the right to acknowledge that he was the father.

_Was_.

She wanders off to find Finn without even looking back. She's a liar, she's a hypocrite, and she's a terrible person.

* * *

And as she watches the girl walk off, Terri knows that she's right. But she has to. Will never has to know that it's a fake miscarriage. She won't scar him. She won't destroy him inside. After all, it's just a miscarriage. How terrible can that be? She doesn't want to destroy him or emotionally scar him, and she doesn't even really want to lie to him but it's her only way out.

She may not know what it's like to lose a baby, but she knows what it's like to not have one and she thinks that it's just as bad as having a miscarriage.

She sighs and walks to the car, where Will is waiting in the driver's seat.

"God, I just feel so bad for her," he remarks as he starts the car. She grins sorrowfully and presses her face against the cool glass of the window, exhaling unsteadily. She sees Quinn fall into her boyfriend's supportive arms, and feels a twinge inside of her. She's hardly even let Will touch her since she found out she is having a hysterical pregnancy. She needs to fall into _his _arms, needs to know that he still loves her. And she'll be able too, soon enough.

"Yeah, me too."

* * *

"Okay, so all you have to do is stick this in your pants and pop it when you want to 'miscarry'," Kendra fills up a balloon filled with fake blood, squeezing it with her long, polished fingernails. Terri can hardly believe she's going through with this. They're going to have to orchestrate such an elaborate scheme that she's isn't sure if it'll even work. Why did she agree to this? It's going to be so hard to pull off…

"Terri? Terri! Are you even listening to me?" Kendra sees her sister's panicked face and knows that she doubts the plan again. She rolls her eyes, "What's wrong now?"

"I can't do this." Throughout their scheming, Terri has voiced her doubts, but never once has she blatantly stated that she can't do this. Kendra had been sure that she's perfectly fine about the plan.

"It's not that hard. Just stick it in your pants and-"

"No, no, no, not that. This whole thing. The miscarriage. I can't make Will think I lost the baby. It'll hurt him-" She speaks frantically.

"But it'll save your marriage," Kendra states slowly, as if she is talking to a child.

"I don't know if it's worth it! I was talking to that Quinn…she told me that it'll destroy him inside. I don't want to hurt him…I can't do this…"

"Terri-"

"And it's not just that. How are we supposed to get the doctor to fake something like this? We can't threaten him again…it won't work."

"First, don't listen to that Quinn. She doesn't know what she's talking about; she's just a teenager-"

"But she still had a mis-"

"And second," Kendra interrupts, "We'll threaten him or bribe him until he gives in. It won't be a problem."

"But why? Why can't I just tell him the truth?" She looks her sister straight in the eyes.

"Because you have to."

* * *

Quinn walks towards Coach Sylvester's office, clad in her Cheerios uniform. Her skirt feels extremely short, as she hasn't worn it in what seems like forever. She keeps smoothing the back of it down. She doesn't know why she feels so exposed in it; she's worn it countless times before. Her hair is up in a ponytail. She looks like her old self, but the ponytail tugs on her hair and the uniform feels too short. She looks like her old self, but she doesn't _feel _like her old self.

She's going to get her old self back, though. All of it. She had had to give her uniform back after she was kicked out of the squad, but she managed to convince Brittany to loan her uniform to her. It fits her well, because now there's no bump to make it uncomfortably tight.

Now there's nothing stopping life from going back to normal.

She stops at the doorframe and knocks on it. She inhales, silently reassuring herself of her decision. There's nothing wrong with doing this. There's nothing wrong with forgetting that she ever carried a child inside her, right? Sue looks up from what appears to be a journal with an eyebrow raised.

"If it isn't my little former head cheerleader. To what do I owe this pleasure?" the coach says blandly. Quinn straightens her back.

"I want you to put me back on the squad." Her words are simple and she doesn't dance around the point.

"And why should I do that?"

"I'm obviously not…" the younger girl swallows, "…pregnant anymore. There's no reason you shouldn't."

"I may consider it, as long as you can avoid getting pregnant again." Quinn cringes but nods.

_'Trust me,'_ she says silently, _'I won't be having sex for a _long_ time.'_

Sue's always liked Quinn. She saw her as a young version of herself, until she became pregnant. Nevertheless, she is clever and has a sharp wit, qualities that Sue thinks mirror her own.

"I'm quitting glee," Quinn blurts out, surprising herself and Sue. This might convince Sue to let her back on the team. And this is what she wants, of course. Besides, she can't be associated with those geeks anymore anyway if she wants to regain her former popularity.

"Are you now?"

"I think that if I do Cheerios then…I shouldn't do anything else. I should be yours exclusively." She holds her head high as she speaks to the coach. She has an air of confidence about her.

"That wasn't your attitude before," Sue observes skeptically.

"I'd just really like to let back on the squad." Quinn can't think of anything else to convince her further, so she turns to leave.

"I'll think about it, Q." Quinn walks away. She's one step closer to becoming popular again; she can feel it. She can forget that she ever slept with Puck now. She can forget that she was ever pregnant now. She can forget that she ever lied to Finn now. It's all behind her.

That past is the past, and it's going to stay that way. 


	9. Chapter 9

And it does stay that way, if only for a little while.

She quits glee the day after she talked to Coach Sylvester, and she's allowed back on the squad. Mr. Schuester, predictably, seems upset and asks for a reason, but she doesn't give a straight answer. Citing personal reasons, she leaves the music room, convinced that she'll never return. It's her past behind her and her future ahead of her.

Puck catches wind of the situation and stops her in the hall.

"What?" she snaps. She's become numb to the tugging of her ponytail and unaware of the shortness of her uniform. She's slowly morphing back into her old self; she knows it. But every time she sees _him_ and remembers his fury in the hospital, she takes one step back from forgetting.

"You quit," he states blandly.

"What's it to you?"

"You're trying to forget all this ever happened," he accuses. He's more observant than he looks, she notes.

He might even know her better than absent-minded Finn. It's a scary thought, and she brushes it aside.

"Why should you care?" She pushes past him but he stops her with a strong hand on her arm. All the terror washes out of him when he sees the terrified look in her eyes at his iron grip, the helpless, pleading look that beseeches him to release her.

_Don't be your father, don't be your father._

He lets her arm go quickly.

"You can't forget. You'll never forget," Puck says coldly. 'I_ can't forget. _I'll_ never forget_,' he corrects himself silently.

"Yes I will. But people like _you_ are making it hard. As far as I'm concerned, there never was a baby," she lowers her voice threateningly. When he opens his mouth to protest, she continues, "If you want to avoid _screwing_ up my life any more, you'll leave me alone." She's gone crazy, he realizes. She's gone crazy with denial and the delusion that she can forget the whole ordeal. Nevertheless, her words sting with bitter truth.

Puck doesn't nod but doesn't shake his head; Quinn walks off but doesn't fall into Finn's arms as he passes by her.

* * *

Rachel had watched their conversation from a safe distance away. She could see them perfectly well, but had not heard a thing. She can't read lips, not yet, but she can tell that it had been an important discussion that should have been heard. As Quinn struts away, Rachel emerges from the shadows and walks on to her next class.

Something is going on. She's seen tension between Puck and Quinn for a while now. It's been enough to make anyone observant suspicious. She's not sure why Puck was at the hospital with Quinn before any of the glee club members arrived, or why they had the angry conversation she just witnessed, but she's going to find out because not knowing is horrible.

* * *

Finn awakes at around two in the morning to a few incoherent mumbles coming from the other side of the bed where his girlfriend sleeps fitfully. He rolls over and finds Quinn's face contorted in fear. Her hands tug at the covers, as if they are a lifeline, the only thing saving her from perishing.

"Puck…" she says his name almost as if she is pleading with him, gripping the pillow tightly in between her delicate fingers. He flinches at the use of his best friend's name in such an entreating tone, "Puck, please don't…don't tell Finn. Don't tell him. Forget…" She shakes her head, refusing whatever is happening in the dream.

Finn doesn't know what to do. Usually, when she has a nightmare, he wakes her up and comforts her. But she's never said anything like that while unconscious.

What doesn't she want him to know?

"Quinn," he nudges her gently, and her eyes fly open with a gasp. She blinks a few times before focusing her eyes on him. She realizes what had happened soon after. A nightmare.

"Just a nightmare. Sorry to wake you. Go back to sleep."

"But…but you said Puck's name," he can't stop himself from asking with bewildered eyes. Somehow, he can't dismiss it, "You told him not to tell me something."

Her face shows her fear clearly. Does he know? Did she tell him in her sleep? She begins to tremble slightly. Her conscience is never going to let her hear the end of this ordeal, is it? If she won't tell him when she's awake, then will her conscience betray her and let the truth out for her?

"Why?" he asks, his voice thick with sleep.

"It was just a nightmare, Finn," she calms herself and replies smoothly with a note of finality in her voice so he won't dispute it any more. She rolls over to the side of the bed farthest away from her boyfriend.

He isn't so sure.

* * *

Finn doesn't mention it to Quinn at breakfast, but he can't hold it inside much longer. He has so many questions. Something must be going on that he doesn't know about, he decides. He's dumb, but he isn't blind.

He talks to Rachel about it during school. She's his confidante, perhaps the only stable thing in his life right now, and he knows she cares. He tells her all about his suspicions and the dream, and she doesn't interrupt. She just nods and waits until he is finished to speak.

"She…she said his name in her sleep?" she asks. She was right. Something's going on.

"Yeah, kinda like she was begging him or something. It's just…been bugging me all day. I think something's going on between them." He won't assume the worst just yet; he needs Quinn to reassure him that nothing is or was going on between them.

She'll never lie to him.

Rachel doesn't mention the discussion she saw them having yesterday, the heated words, the visible tension, Puck's grip on Quinn's arm as she tried to leave. She just listens as Finn confirms what she has suspected.

"Finn, if I find out anything, I promise I'll tell you," she puts an arm on his shoulder and smiles, leaving before he can tell her that she doesn't need to spy on Quinn for his sake. He's curious, but he's pretty sure it's nothing.

She loves him; she'll never lie to him.

* * *

She encounters Quinn next in the girl's bathroom. The cheerleader fixes her ponytail, winding her light hair around the hair band, and appears to ignore Rachel's presence until the other girl speaks.

"Yesterday, I-I saw you and Puck talking in the hall. You looked like you were arguing. I suppose it isn't my business, but is everything all right?" Rachel asks, looking at Quinn's reflection in the mirror timidly. A scowl tugs the sides of Quinn's mouth down.

Quinn grips the sides of the sink tightly, filled with irritation at Rachel's intruding nature, before walking over to her coolly.

_It _isn't_ her business._

"You saw nothing." Quinn's softly spoken words hide a threat that she understands instantly. But she is unaware that she is only feeding the other girl's suspicions. Rachel nods comprehension tensely and exits the bathroom as fast as her legs can carry her.

She's sure that it isn't _'nothing.'

* * *

_

Rachel knows that Quinn isn't going to give her an answer, so she turns to Puck, whom she just may be able to coax an answer out of. If she gets him mad enough, he'll tell her; she knows him well enough to understand that. In a fit of rage, he almost certainly can't keep a secret. His fury is his weakness.

She doesn't approach him in the halls for during glee, for fear that someone could hear their discussion, but in the parking lot after school with the cooling air rustling the trees in the distance. She hugs her shivering frame tightly as she walks up to him.

"Noah?" He doesn't even have to turn around to know who's approaching him; no one else addresses him by his real first name.

"What do you want, Berry?" He seems to be waiting for someone to walk out of the school, glancing around anxiously as if said person will leave without him being able to speak to them.

"Who are you looking for?"

"No one."

"I'm not stupid." Puck can't find a witty comeback because she's right; she isn't stupid.

"Puck, I saw you and Quinn conversing in the hall yesterday." _Shit._

"So?"

"So...there looks like there's something going on between you two," she blurts out. Dancing around the point won't help things, she decides.

"Why the hell would you think that?" he asks coldly, but anxiety is creeping into his stomach. Berry's clever enough to figure this out, he decides.

"I can see the tension between you two. I mean; I know you like her. You've made that a little more than slightly obvious," and now she just has to get him mad, "It must be too bad to like your best friend's girlfriend." He turns and looks at her, eyes steeled with hatred. She's got him going, "I mean, knowing that you'll never have her. Now that she's lost their baby, nothing can tear them apart." This truth hurts the both of them, and makes Puck significantly angrier. She continues, "You know, there can be many different causes of a miscarriage. I was just thinking that if you two… had a fight or something, that maybe the stress from fighting might have caused her miscarriage."

She's said too much. But that's what she wanted to say.

She's brought up the thing that strikes a nerve with Puck: the possibility that stress from his presence in her life brought on Quinn's miscarriage. Nothing would make him angrier, she's certain.

He hates to think that _he_ could have killed their baby. He can't believe than someone like Berry, who usually watches her words, would say something like that to him. He's fuming with rage now.

"Shut the fuck up!" he growls. He walks up closer to her, nearly cornering her. She's frozen with fear, even though she's sure he'd never hurt a girl, especially not her. He pauses, too absorbed with rage to watch what he says, and thinks back on Rachel's words.

_Now that she's lost their baby, nothing can tear them apart._

"What the fuck makes you so sure it was _his_ after all?" he seethes through clenched teeth. His anger speaks for him, the emotion dominating his senses and controlling his spiteful tongue.

_Fuck._

He's done it.

He's let the truth slip to the person who is not only smart enough to understand that Finn wasn't the father and that he was, but is also certain to blab to said person about the truth.

Rachel stands there in stunned silence, her mouth moving wordlessly, struggling to form the elusive words that she wants to speak.

It can't be. She can't believe it. Finn had been the father…Quinn's pregnancy had decimated Rachel's chances with him…Quinn's miscarriage had practically destroyed her chances with him… Quinn loved Finn and would never do that to him…Or so she thought.

But it was all a lie.

Finn wasn't the father. And it would only make sense that Puck was. That's why they were fighting. That's why she was calling out his name in her sleep. That's why she's seen him staring at her with longing. That's why the tension between Puck and Quinn can be cut with a knife. It all makes sense. Why didn't she realize that sooner?

She has to tell him.

"Finn is your best friend, how could you betray him like that-"

"You can't tell him," his voice is a forceful command that Rachel is somewhat scared to disobey even if he harbors no authority over her.

"You…you both lied to him! How do you expect me to stand back and-and watch him suffer?" she cries, impassioned by the unfairness of it all to Finn. He comes closer to her, his face inches from hers so she can feel his hot, angry breath on her cheek. Her heart is racing, and she doesn't know why. While Puck pauses, the only sound is their breathing. Finally, he speaks.

"He never has to suffer if he never knows," he hisses, and storms away just in time to run into the person he was looking for. But Quinn just walks out of school with Finn on her arm without even a glance back at Puck.

She sees their hands clasped together, and Quinn leaning gently on Finn for support. He gives it willingly.

_Now that she's lost their baby, nothing can tear them apart._

Nothing but the truth.

But if she tells him the truth, then he_ will _suffer, and she doesn't want him to suffer. Not if she can stop it.

She's frightened to say that she understands Puck's reasoning. She'll never cause him to suffer if she never tells him. But Rachel can't decide if he'll hurt more if he knows than if he doesn't know. Certainly, blissful ignorance is not suffering. She doesn't know if she's being unreasonable; she's too overwhelmed at the moment by Puck's sudden revelation.

Finn won't be the one suffering, but she will, having a hold such a weighty secret inside when's she's around him. And he might be mad at her or something, if she lets the truth slip, and she could never risk that.

Her lips are sealed for the moment, but how permanent is the glue?

* * *

**Note: **I don't like this chapter a whole lot. Next chapter will get back to the Terri sub-plot, I promise. This story should probably end soon anyway. I apologize for the delayed update; school's been eating me alive. I appreciate reviews, but won't beg.


	10. Chapter 10

**Note: **The lines separating the last chapter's sections somehow didn't show up. I've fixed the problem. I know how confusing it gets to read a story that isn't separated.

* * *

_To the heart and mind__  
__Ignorance is kind__  
__There's no comfort in the truth__  
__Pain is all you'll find_

Wham!, Careless Whisper

* * *

When the shit doesn't hit the fan the next day, or the next day, or the day after that, Puck knows something's up. He'd expected Finn to be punching the living crap out of him the day after he told Rachel, but surprisingly, she seems to have been able to keep her mouth shut for once. Maybe she understands the magnitude of this secret.

_Or maybe she loves Finn too much to want to hurt him._

Like he gives a damn.

He pulls her into an abandoned classroom in order to talk with her without others hearing. She protests rather loudly in her high-pitched, shrill voice, but he pays no heed to her words.

"Please explain why you just _dragged_ me into this classroom-" Rachel begins, flustered.

"You didn't tell him," he meets her chocolate gaze squarely, his eyes piercing, almost unblinking. She swallows. She folds her arms over her red sweater and brings herself to her full height – which she will admit isn't that tall.

"That's correct. Now if you'll excuse me I need to be going-"

"Why?" For Finn? For Quinn? For him? He doesn't know why he needs to know.

"It does not _matter_ why. All you need to know is that I didn't tell him," she responds.

"You're still chasing after him," he sneers scornfully. She cringes and sighs and her mouth pinches in a way that makes Puck regret what he said.

"It won't do any good. He has Quinn-" she begins softly. She looks away and strolls over to an empty desk in the room. She grasps onto the chair and sighs. He follows her with eyes that question her movements.

"You could still break them up, so why don't you?" For a second, he doesn't look menacing and by the look in his eyes, she can tell that maybe he thinks there's the slightest chance she did this for him. Or perhaps _he_ wants to break them up and be with Quinn.

Nevertheless, she doesn't know why she's done it. To save Finn from suffering, probably. After so much emotional turmoil lately, she's not sure he can take much more. He'll crack. And he needs to maintain his sanity for Sectionals. She knows that, without him, they're down a key member.

But she also knows that she'll suffer if she keeps torturing herself by chasing after him.

She doesn't want to do it anymore. She cares about Finn, she always will. But she's not sure she's in love with him. She's not sure that she was ever in love with him. It had been infatuation. She's been reading about it online. The body makes a certain hormone attracting someone to another person, but eventually the body can't make it any more, and the person is no longer as flawless and attractive as once thought. She's started to notice tiny things about Finn that make her think a little less of him, that almost annoy her.

It was just infatuation. It almost hurts to think that it was as insignificant was that, but that's what it was.

It has to have been that. It _needs_ to have been that. If it isn't, and she realizes that she really does love Finn, then she'll just go on hurting herself.

"Just in case you were wondering, I am not doing this for you. I'm doing it for Finn. I don't…" she sighs, "I don't want to hurt him. And just so soon after Quinn lost the baby, f-for him to figure out that it was never his in the first place…He'll crack and we can't win Sectionals without him…I care about him enough to let him be happy. And if he's happy with Quinn, then I'm happy. Really, really happy." She smiles stiffly but it doesn't reach her eyes. Her eyes roam the room, trying to find something to glance at other than the boy standing a few feet away from her. She can't look at him. Not when she's lying.

She's trying to convince herself, he knows it. She's not happy. He knows enough about her to know that she's actually pretty miserable. But she'll deny it.

He scoffs and walks out.

Why is she so fucking confusing?

At first, she pines after Finn, following him like a faithful dog, willing to do anything for him and horribly jealous of his affection for Quinn. She'd have grabbed onto anything to break them up then.

But now, when she finally _can_ end their relationship and win Finn for herself, she won't do it. Maybe it's because of Sectionals right around the corner, but maybe there's also a chance that he's actually truly happy with Quinn and she knows it and doesn't want to ruin it. She can tell Finn, but it would be for personal gain only.

Rachel's never been one to ignore a good opportunity. It doesn't make sense.

She must be bipolar or something.

* * *

As Terri lies in bed, a balloon of blood positioned where it is required to fake her miscarriage, she tries to calm her doubts. But they swirl in her mind and nag her until she thinks that she will go insane. Her blonde hair is spread out on the pillow as she waits for Will to get into bed with her, a golden halo around her terrified face.

She shouldn't be doing this. Faking a pregnancy is one thing, but faking a miscarriage is another.

Her doctor is ready to play along. Everything's in place.

'_It's right,'_ she reassures herself, _'It's better than getting a child from elsewhere and pretending it's Will's. This way he'll never have gotten to know the baby. He won't be so attached.' _

It hadn't been easy to look into the eyes of Quinn Fabray, a young girl who has suffered the misery of a miscarriage, and tell her that she was planning on pretending to have one herself. She had felt disgusted with herself, even more than she does now.

But she can't back out now. She's gone too far.

_It's never too late to tell him the truth._

She reassures herself that it _is_ far too late now. But that little voice, it's getting louder, more insistent.

Will kisses her goodnight and falls asleep within the hour. Terri can't let sleep come to her. She has to do this. Even as her mind becomes hazy and her eyes beg to be allowed to close, she refuses to be taken over by sleep.

Carefully, she reaches over to the nightstand, her fingers inching along the dark wood until she finds what she searches for: a pin. It pricks her finger and draws blood, but she ignores the inconvenience. Her hand shaking, she lowers the pin to the balloon.

'_You-you don't know what you're going to do to him inside, if you make him think you miscarried. It's scarring. It'll change him. But you…it won't change you. You'll still be the same lying, selfish person you are now. Only you know that there never was a child.'_

No second thoughts now. It's too late to back out.

With one swift motion, she ruptures the balloon. The resulting noise isn't loud, and doesn't wake Will. The color red soaks her pajamas and the white covers. She swallows and sets the pin back down with a trembling hand. It looks real.

So real.

Now she has to pretend to be in pain, but something holds her voice back.

She and Kendra have gone over it countless time, all the steps. First, pop the balloon. Second, be rushed to the hospital. Third, let the blackmailed doctor take care of convincing Will there really was a baby. It'll all go well, Kendra had said, as long as you can shut your conscience up. But lately, Terri has had a hard time ignoring her conscience.

She shuts her eyes tightly and gasps softly in pain, in mock agony. She feigns disgust when she looks between her legs.

_You're not faking, Terri. You're disgusted with yourself and you have every right to be._

"Will," her voice is high and panicked. She's a good actress. She has had leads in several school plays to prove it. Her thoughts scattered, she leans over frantically and shakes him awake, "Will!"

He grunts and rolls over, opening his eyes slowly. When he looks over at her side of the bed, the bloody sheets are all he can see.

"Oh my God," he's awake in an instant. No, she can't be losing the baby. After hoping for one for so long…she can't lose it. He's frozen with terror. Terri clutches her stomach and cries out. She can tell that he believes it is really happening, that he hasn't a doubt in his ignorant little mind about it. He's so gullible, so trusting.

That is why this is hurting her so much. She's taking advantage of someone who has done nothing but trust her.

And the look on his face is just about to kill her.

_All he wants is a family. That's all he's _ever_ wanted. And you're taking it away from him._

"I-I think I'm losing the baby!" she exclaims, her voice rising with panic. She squeezes her eyes shut, unable to look at Will any more, "No…no, no, no!" She swallows and forces herself to tear up. Doubling over in pretend agony, she cries out again and then falls heavily back onto the pillows. She digs her nails into the arm that he has extended to support her.

She realizes that she's not fake crying anymore.

"I'll call an ambulance." He's out the door and running to the phone before she can even nod. She can hear him dialing the phone and talking to the operator with a quivering voice. She is on the edge of real hysteria, teetering dangerously. He hangs up the phone and comes running back to her. She gets up, leaning against Will for support, and crying out again.

Terri looks down at the bloody mess with real horror for once, for she now really sees what she is going to do to him.

* * *

They arrive at the hospital and, as planned, her doctor takes care of the whole thing. If Will had asked to see that baby, the doctor had another prematurely born baby to show him, but he doesn't. He only waves the doctor away and shakes his head soundlessly when it is brought up.

He wouldn't be able to stand the sight of his lost child. She has known that all along.

He weeps bitterly with Terri in her hospital room, his body heaving and shaking, because he's lost something that he had believed before might never happen at all.

Terri decides then that she had been wrong. Never having a baby isn't worse than having a miscarriage. Because if you never have something, then you cannot experience the grief of losing it.

She can't stand herself. She's caused him all this unneeded misery, all this unnecessary pain. She hates herself. Quinn was right. Why didn't she listen? Why didn't she foresee all the pain he would endure?

Maybe it would have been better if she had told him the truth.

She looks at him then, as he lies with her in her bed, and sees only the endless tears pouring down his handsome face. And the tears that fall from her eyes next are not pretend. They are genuine tears of self-pity, and self-hate.

The only consolation she has is that now, she's effectively tied him to her, at least for the moment. He can never dream of leaving her, not now at least, after he thinks she's lost a child. His child.

But she knows how pathetic that is because this sole comfort has been achieved through lies and deceit.

"Its okay Will," she says through her tears, "There'll be others." To Terri, her softly spoken words do not sound insensitive, but Will looks at her with such disbelief after they leave her mouth that she realizes how cold her statement is. His mouth moves without words. He can't believe that she's said that.

There will be others. Yes, he has to believe that. He has to keep that picture of a family with Terri in his mind. He must never let it leave. Even now, minutes after she's lost their first child, must he remember that he will have a family one day.

But he still won't forget the daughter that never was.

He looks at her tearstained face and shakes his head.

"I…I know but…I'll always remember her," his voice catches on his last word and he does nothing to prevent the tears that come from his eyes next.

Terri only nods.

* * *

Will walks into Emma's office slowly, looking down as he places one foot in front of the other.

Terri had assured him that she'd be fine on her own, that he should go to work today. He had disagreed and refused to leave her side, but after she told him to go to work once more in an irritated voice, he'd still protested. She'd almost seemed eager to get rid of him. He had finally acquiesced when she looked like she was about to cry.

"Will. Hello," she greets him, her normally wide eyes observing him, "I saw you weren't at school yesterday. I- um, is everything all right?" He takes a seat and heaves a deep sigh. He needs her guidance at the moment, for he's totally lost and bewildered by Terri's statement that they will have other children, and the fact that she practically shoved him out the door. He runs his hands over his face, through his hair, which he had not done anything to for days (as he had suspected, Sue didn't hesitate to point this out).

"Terri lost the baby," his voice is hoarse and soft, but he isn't crying. He doesn't want to cry in front of Emma.

"Will… Oh my gosh…I'm so sorry," her mouth hangs open slightly but she snaps it shut when she realizes that she's gaping at the news. She thinks it ironic how Quinn and Terri both lost their children only a week apart. Breathing deeply and trying to forget her fear of germs, she walks over to Will and embraces him with a tenderness that Will thinks only she has. When she feels her shoulder grow damp, she realizes that he's crying miserable, hot tears. She swallows, but she doesn't feel the need to pull away and brush off her shoulder like she would if someone else was crying on her newly dry-cleaned clothing.

Will's tears aren't like everyone else's.

"She told me there'd…be others…other children. I don't get how she could say that…how she could just…d-disregard her so soon and…" He pulls away from the embrace all of a sudden, wiping at his cheeks and clearing his throat. He looks like he feels bad for breaking down. She wants to tell him that it's okay, that she doesn't mind, but she can't seem to summon her voice to speak, "I, uh…need to get back to my class. Thanks for listening. It helped." He smiles unhappily and leaves. She doesn't move for a few moments. She brings a hand to her wet shoulder and grasps it lightly. She sighs.

Emma presses her lips together in thought. She wants to follow him, hug him, whisper words of comfort to him. Anything more than stand there and let him cry on her shoulder without speaking to him at all, struck dumb by his grim news.

Whatever stupid, girlish hopes she'd had of Will leaving his wife and running away with her are gone. They were unreasonable, at best, before Terri's miscarriage, but now, they're impossible. Will will never leave her now, grieving for their lost child as they are

She's marrying Ken. She loves Ken.

Emma wants to laugh when she thinks of actually loving Ken, but it isn't a joke.

She tries to keep from shedding tears as she makes her way back to her desk. Once she is seated, she draws a hand to shield her face so the students passing by the unnecessarily large windows in front of her office don't see their guidance counselor crying.

She _almost_ doesn't want to love Will, but she does. Truly, faithfully, endlessly. She _almost_ wishes she doesn't sometimes. It would make her life easier, less stressful. She wouldn't have to go to work everyday knowing of the torment she'll endure just looking into his eyes.

But she doesn't _really_ wish she doesn't love him.

Just _almost_.

* * *

**Note: **To be continued…But to be ended soon as well.


	11. Chapter 11

_Offer up your best defense__  
__But this is the end__  
__This is the end of the innocence_

_- _Don Henley, The End of the Innocence

* * *

She doesn't object when Finn remains in the glee club. Quinn can tell that it means a lot to him, and she figures he needs something to relieve all the stress he's been under lately. Sometimes, she'll linger outside the music room in order to hear her former teammates join together in song. Rachel's voice is always the easiest to hear, because it carries more than everyone else's, but if she listens closely enough, she can hear Finn singing. She's never told him how sweet his voice sounds when singing a lilting love song. But she never makes her presence known to anyone inside the room. Occasionally, she'll even sing with the group very softly, so no one can hear her, just because she misses it, misses singing. She doesn't sing any more. She _can't_ sing any more. Not if she wants to stay popular.

They're getting ready for Sectionals now. Part of Quinn wants to go and see the club she was once on, see the group of people that she once called her friends perform together. Another part warns her about mingling with nerds. Now that she's been accepted back on the cheerleading squad, she's not going to jeopardize her status so soon. Not for the sake of friendship or music or anything else.

She's been extremely fortunate so far in the world of popularity. Once the other Cheerios saw that she was back to her normal, icy ways, they hadn't given her much trouble about her pregnancy or any of her wrongs in her past and had bended to her will. A few girls took a while to be afraid of her again, and Santana still openly challenges her status, but, other than that, most everyone seems to have forgotten as Quinn has.

She's not head cheerleader again, though. But she will be soon. Her comeback is going to be so spectacular that she'll practically be hailed as a goddess; she's sure. It's her rightful place, on McKinley High's throne, and no one will ever dare usurp it again as long as she's around.

But, she still watches the glee rehearsals. She's forgotten everything in her past well so far. She's stopped doing things that can put her popularity on the line, like wearing those nerdy baby doll dresses and eating lunch with the glee club. But she can't seem to stop going every day to watch the practices. It's a strange addiction. If she could stop, then she could completely free herself from the past, break the heavy chains that still partially remain wrapped around her. She'll always be tied to glee, no matter how much she tries to get away. It had been a part of her and it had mattered more than she likes to admit.

One day, as she waits in the shadows, glee is dismissed and the students file out of the room. Artie and Tina look at her oddly as they leave together. Mercedes throws her a sassy and sarcastic look that asks, _'Why are you here? You're obviously too good for us now.'_ She usually doesn't stay until the end of rehearsal and is never really seen by anyone. But she's had a particularly hard day, with Santana challenging her in front of everyone once again, and she needs to see Finn, to fall into his arms and be comforted by his familiar, bland scent. She thinks that he's pretty unaware of the effect he has on her. Quinn ignores the looks she's getting and watches for him to approach. He usually isn't hard to spot because of his height, but today, she can't seem to spot his tall form towering above everyone else. She stands there on the tips of her toes, straining to glimpse her boyfriend. But, she doesn't see him leave, and instead, a short person, clad in a pink argyle sweater and knee socks that she knows without thinking is Rachel, walks up to her with her hands folded primly in front of her.

"What do you want?" she snaps. She doesn't bother to call her 'Man Hands,' or another vicious nickname she used to enjoy using frequently. She hasn't forgotten how Rachel had been nice to her when it seemed like all others had abandoned her. But they cannot be anything close to friends now that Quinn's back on top. It's a risk she's not willing to take.

"Quinn, I…" Rachel pauses. She's unsure of why she's doing this. But she needs Quinn to know that she's not going to tell Finn, needs her to know that she'll leave her alone now that she's on top again. Even though Rachel figures that she doesn't owe Quinn much, she thinks that she, at least, she owes her this.

The blonde waits, impatient to end their discussion for fear someone will see her talking to a geek. When Rachel finally regains her voice, she speaks composedly, "I know about the baby." She lets her breath out all at once after she speaks, readying herself for a good punch in the face from Quinn. The other girl's eyes get very wide. A shiver runs up her spine and she shudders without thinking. There is no one around now, except for the two of them, so Rachel continues talking in a hushed tone, "I know that it wasn't Finn-"

"Be quiet," Quinn's voice cuts into her words sternly. She's not sure how Rachel came to know this little piece of information, but she's going to destroy whoever told her and ensure that she will tell no one, "You can never say a _word_ of this to anyone. Do you have any idea how hard it was to get back to where I am now?" Rachel shakes her head, still half expecting Quinn to slap her. She begins to flinch at what she knows is an impending attack, causing the other girl to chuckle darkly. Laughing at her fear as she is, Quinn does not raise her hand to assault her, "Of course you don't. Who are you, really? Stuck in the sub-basement with the rest of the glee nerds. I'm back on top now, Man Hands. My reputation can't survive another scandal." She's made her point more than sufficiently. And the thing that's satisfied her most is the fact that Rachel looks scared out of her wits to confront her.

She can inflict terror on geeks again. She knows she should feel good because she's even closer to becoming her old self, but she doesn't. Not really. She only partly feels good because she can give the _impression_ of enjoying inflicting terror on them. She doesn't really like causing other people fear. She used to, but she doesn't any more. However, as long as everyone else think she enjoys it, then she's okay.

Even though she's tried to forget everything that happened during her pregnancy, she has learned some lessons from being on the bottom of the food chain that have stuck with her. Like how much being slushied sucks, and how mortifying it is to be singled out and insulted by higher-ups. She'd had terror inflicted on her many times while at the base of the popularity ladder, and she can say that she doesn't truly enjoy giving it to nerds now that she knows what it feels like to be on the receiving end.

Shaking her head, Quinn turns around and heads for the school's exit. Finn will come find her eventually. She's not sure why she's the one waiting for him. He's not putting much effort into improving his social standing. Her life is shifting back into the fast lane and if he can't keep up then…She doesn't want to think about it. Even though she has a convincing façade going that she'd be totally fine being alone, Quinn depends on him more than she wants to. She loves him too much for her own good, but he's going to be left in the dust if he doesn't do something to help his status soon.

"I just…can I ask you something?" Rachel watches as Quinn stops walking and turns toward her with a nonchalant and confident swagger, the one she had before she got pregnant. The one that nearly screams to the world that she's a bitch and proud of it.

"What?"

"Why did you do it?" the brunette pauses, "Why did you lie to him?"

She pauses for a minute, thinking over her answer. She takes a shaky breath in. She's Quinn Fabray. She shouldn't be afraid. But the prospect of losing Finn, the only stable thing she has right now, is sickening to her. And the prospect that losing him could happen at the hands of Rachel Berry is even more sickening.

"If you just…look at him and… compare him to Puck…which one do you think would've been a better father?" Her question needs no response. They both know the answer.

When she turns around this time, Rachel doesn't try to stop her. But when she walks away, Rachel doesn't see a trace of the vulnerable and scared Quinn Fabray that had thanked her tearfully for being there that night she lost her daughter. She only sees the Quinn Fabray who would stand by and laugh when she got slushied, sees the Quinn Fabray who would write snarky comments on her MySpace videos. She doesn't see a girl filled with remorse because she betrayed someone she cares about. She sees a girl who was going to change for the better, but decided that it was too much work and jumped on the first opportunity she was given to go back to her old ways.

* * *

Will looks down at sheet music glumly. He stands alone behind the piano in the choir room, having just dismissed practice for that day. The room feels large and empty, like if he talked, there would almost be an echo. Pondering this, he sorts the music into several different stacks and stares at them for a while, discontented at their arrangement, until sighing and pulling all the papers into a single pile.

He's been doing indecisive things ever since Terri lost their baby. He'd given the glee kids one song that day, until deciding against teaching them that one at the moment, and then handing out a totally different one. They'd all looked at him funny, their eyes filled with unspoken questions that none of them voiced. He's not usually one to do things without thinking and then decide against doing them soon after. They all know that.

Now, Finn doesn't know the definition of indecisive. He'd heard Rachel use it when she was talking about choosing a song for a glee project in which they were partners. He'd chosen one song, then changed his mind and chosen another, successfully infuriating the organized and ever-picky Rachel. She'd finally blown up, called him indecisive, and stormed out in one of her diva fits.

He thinks it means that you can't decide on something, but he's not sure.

However, with his uncertain definition in mind, he walks up to Mr. Schue after glee practice.

"Hey Finn. What can I do for you?" He isn't talking in his usually chipper and optimistic tone. He sounds defeated, hopeless, crushed.

"I was just um…I dunno, you just looked kind of depressed today. Is something up? Principal Figgins isn't gonna cut glee, is he?" Will shakes his head and plasters on his fake smile.

"No…at least not at the moment. My wife…Terri," Finn remembers Terri. She's the one who gave them those not-exactly-legal pills in order to make them energetic. She'd seemed crazy and on edge when he'd met her, and he didn't really get why someone calm, cool, and collected, like Mr. Schue, had married her, "She uh…she miscarried our baby," he chokes out.

The words shock Finn and he tries not to gape. Mr. Schue looks like he's about to cry, but he coughs a bit and fights off the tears. Sniffing, he continues, "I can understand what you went through now, Finn, better than I could before. It's really, really painful…to be given something and then to have it taken away." Will looks the boy in the eyes and recalls telling him how he reminds him of himself. And now more than ever, their stories seem to compare.

"It was weird when Quinn lost Drizzle," Finn talks with a distant look on his features, "It was like…We didn't really plan for her or anything, you know, but once she was gone it was…" Just thinking about little Drizzle, the daughter that came before it was her time to be born into this world, makes him want to bawl like a baby. For a second, neither of them speaks. Will absorbs Finn's words and thinks about how Finn and Quinn were given something that they didn't really want, while he and Terri were finally given something they'd wanted for a long, long time. And they both lost it. One wanted it, one didn't. But in the end they both still felt miserable, still wondered what could have been if they hadn't been so unfortunate.

"For like five seconds I thought that maybe it was better not to have the baby but after it kinda sank in and everything…" He drifts off. He hates himself for thinking that. Even if it had only been for a few seconds, he can never take his thoughts back. He'll eternally feel guilty for it, he's sure. And _yes_, he does know what eternally means.

It means forever. It means that he'll remember those awful thoughts _forever. _For the rest of his days. Until he leaves this world. _Forever._

"I waited so long for Terri to get pregnant. I was so happy when she did I…Then when she lost it I…I couldn't believe it." Finn nods compassionately, his mouth pressed into a thin, thoughtful line. Maybe they didn't really _want_ Drizzle to happen. But deep inside himself, Finn knows that a big chunk of him loved her. He figures it's the kind of natural love a father has for their child. He's not sure if he can say the same for Quinn. Because, if you loved someone, why would you want to forget they ever happened like Quinn apparently wants to? He still doesn't get her reasoning behind forgetting her past. She can forget, but he never will.

"You know, it's kinda weird how we lost our kids like a week apart," he observes in his own absent-minded way. Will cracks a feeble smile at his statement.

"I guess so." He remembers the one time that he had come home and seen Terri and Quinn talking on the couch, the both of them looking extremely nervous when he suddenly appeared in the room. He had thought it a bit odd that his pregnant wife and his pregnant student would suddenly start talking, but, then again, it's not like Terri's usually predictable. The scene still baffles him. Terri still baffles him. After all these years of marriage, he's still not sure he understands her. Perhaps he never will.

After that they just sit in silence. It isn't really awkward or anything. Finn's just glad to be in the presence of someone who understands everything he's been through, someone who's always encouraged him to follow his heart and to do what he thinks best. He can't say the same for Quinn. Perhaps he can't even say the same for _Rachel_. Yeah, they've encouraged him, but it's not always to go for what's best for _him_.

"Thanks Mr. Schue," he finally cracks the silence and picks up his book bag as he prepares to leave.

"I didn't really give you advice," Will responds before clearing this throat to take the quiver out of his voice.

"I know. But you're like, the only person who gets it, you know?" Finn smiles forlornly. He hasn't really openly talked about the miscarriage with anyone, and even the quick exchange of words they shared has made him feel significantly better. He can't talk about it with Quinn; all she does is pretend like it never happened. If he could talk with her…he's sure it would help both of them. But she won't let him. All she does is give him a warning look that tells him he's testing her patience. And he never protests further. He just does whatever she wants him to because it's what he's reconciled himself to doing.

He ponders, for about the third time this week, how she was much nicer when she wasn't ice queen, when she was just a mere peasant like the rest of the glee clubbers are, before she had yet to regain her throne. For power of that kind changes people, and not always for the better.

Finn's sure he'd rather have a caring, powerless peasant for a girlfriend than a hardhearted, powerful queen.

* * *

The next day, he's talking to Rachel by his locker about Sectionals when he notices her looking down uncomfortably and smoothing her plaid skirt every other minute and avoiding his eyes as much as possible. Finn's really more observant than most would guess, and for the normally alert, attentive Rachel, this is odd behavior.

"You okay? You've been kinda acting weird lately," he says his words in a joking and unserious manner, but she clearly does not think of whatever's wrong in a dismissive way at all. She gulps and shakes her head.

"Finn…I…" She can't do it. He'll break. He'll explode. He can't handle the truth now, not right before Sectionals when everyone's counting on their male and female leads to be there and perform splendidly. Without him they're doomed. But, plainly stated, maybe he just can't handle the truth at all.

"Yeah?" His eyes. They're so childlike, so ignorant. It hurts her just to meet his gaze. She can feel little pangs stabbing at her heart. She knows that withholding the truth from him is wrong, very wrong. But right now, everyone needs to put personal troubles aside and focus on winning Sectionals. If he has to know the truth, he can find out later. Just not now.

"Finn…I can't tell you. I just… can't," she looks like she's on the brink of tears. He steps forward to console her. She backs away from his touch as if he has some contagious disease that she'll catch from only one touch.

"Rach, you can tell me." God, how she wants to. And his eyes…his eyes…

"No, I can't. Please…I can't tell you," she starts walking away from him hurriedly. She looks terrified. Her knees are shaking. Her heart is pounding. All her blood feels like it's rushing to her head. She knew before that she would be torturing herself by having to keep such a weighty secret from Finn, and she was right.

"Rachel, it's okay. Please tell me. What's going on?" his voice is soothing, coaxing her, and if Rachel hadn't firmly resolved to keep this from him, she'd spill her guts right there and then.

He hates not knowing when something bad is going on. When something bad happens and it's a surprise, it always makes that bad occurrence ten times worse. And he knows Rachel would never keep something from him if it weren't extremely important.

She knows something important. Very, very important. But she won't tell him. It looks like it's tearing her apart inside to hold it in, but she's doing it.

"Finn, all I can say is that…that there are some people in your life right now, and they're not telling you the truth. Alright?" she speaks hastily, desperate for this conversation to end. His eyes flit around the room, as if looking for some explanation for her cryptic words. When he finds none, he looks back down at her. He's never seen her look so scared. She's never scared. She's Rachel Berry.

Before he can get in another word, she's taken off towards the exit, running as fast as her little legs can carry. He starts after her, but decides against it. He doesn't want to freak her out more by running after her.

"Tell me! Please! Rachel!" He can only watch her run away from him like he's some sort of monster.

_Everyone's _been acting bizarre around him. Everyone in glee club. Even Quinn and Puck haven't been behaving normally. Puck's been quieter since Quinn lost her daughter, more brooding. Yesterday, when he entered the glee club room, Mercedes, Kurt, and Artie had immediately stopped whatever discussion they were having and fell silent at the sight of him. It had made him feel really awkward, but he'd written if off as nothing. He's used to gossip anyway, but something deep inside told him that their discussion was a little more serious than idle gossip.

"_Finn, if I find out anything, I promise I'll tell you."_

Then, he is once again drawn back into the past, remembering back a few days ago, when he had told Rachel about Quinn saying his best friend's name imploringly in her sleep. She'd promised that if she found out anything, she'd tell him. But now, she knows something that's so important that she doesn't want to tell him; he knows it. She's disregarded her promise and is keeping the truth to herself. And only something really terrible would _ever_ make her break a promise.

Dread creeps into his stomach. It has to be bad. If it weren't, then the truth wouldn't be kept from him like it is. Puck and Quinn…Quinn and Puck…He doesn't get it. Why would anything be going on between them? Quinn hates Puck; she'd made that obvious several times before she got pregnant. Lately, even more than usual, she's seemed furious with him. He hadn't asked why. He hadn't really cared to know why.

Everyone else knows. He's the last one to not know. He's the only one who has no clue what's going on. He feels cheated, lied to. Everyone's out to keep the truth from him. Everyone's working against him. It's some kind of conspiracy. Even Rachel's involved. Even _she_, someone who can hardly ever keep a secret, deems it significant enough to withhold from him and is willing to torment herself by keeping the truth to herself. But if no one wants to tell him, then he can't really make them. He never used to be above beating up someone like Artie or Kurt in order to get information, but he can't do that to them now. They're kind of like his friends. If he did that, he'd forever lose their trust, and even though they're at the base of the popularity ladder and their trust doesn't matter to most, it matters to Finn. He hates knowing that he's disappointed others, even homosexuals and paraplegics.

It really sucks when you know something bad is going on, but you don't know exactly what and don't have the means to find out. So you have to wait until it comes and reveals itself to you. Finn knows it'll pop out at him suddenly, like a bad surprise.

Lies. Everyone's lying to him. He's swimming in a sea of lies and he's about to drown. He isn't going to make it much longer if he doesn't know what's going on.

* * *

He goes to Quinn first in his quest for the truth. She crawls into bed next to him that night and snuggles herself close to him, enjoying the instant safeness and security his arms offer her. He decides to ask her then, before he has second thoughts that would deter him.

"Quinn?"

"Yeah?" She turns over and looks at his face in the dark with uncommon adoration. She brings her hand out from under the covers and caresses his cheek with her gentle, delicate touch. She loves being able to show such affection to someone. She has to be the ice queen all day at school, to everyone, and Finn is no exception. But here in the dark, in private, she can love Finn as much as she wants to.

He swallows. He feels almost kind of bad to ruin the tender, tranquil moment between them. However, he opens his mouth to speak, but he stops when he sees that her cheeks have suddenly grown damp.

"I'm sorry Finn," she tells him, her voice wavering with tears. It's nice to hear something other than her monotone for once, even if she is crying, so Finn doesn't interrupt her. He takes her hand off his face and holds it comfortingly, "I'm so, so sorry." It takes her some time to realize that she's crying. She's not sure what has come over her. She makes no effort the stop the flood of tears. She had promised herself never to show emotion. She can't cry or show emotion anywhere else, but here in Finn's room, the rules of the outside world don't apply.

"Why?" Call him crazy, but he thinks that maybe this has something to do with the truth that everyone's withholding from him. He keeps him mouth shut and examines her with troubled eyes.

Her guilt is pouring out along with her tears. When Rachel had asked her today, why she had done it…It had hurt to answer her. Perhaps there's no justification for lying like she has. But perhaps, if you know it's what's best for your child, the person you love above everyone else, then it's okay. But she can't keep lying like this. It's killing her, eating away at her bit by bit until she's nearly hollow like she is now.

"I lied to you Finn…" Her dam of tears breaks and Finn's eyes widen to incredible proportions.

She can't believe she's telling him this. God had given her a way out when He had made her miscarry, made it so she never had to tell Finn about who Drizzle's father really was. Or maybe He did that to make her tell him. Having a miscarriage has changed her and it's made her far more sensitive than she was before. Before she miscarried, she never would have told Finn the truth. But after…it's totally different. She's totally different.

"A-a person can't get pregnant in the hot tub, Finn." She lets it all out in one breath. Her eyes never leave his face. It takes him a minute; then he gets it.  
"I-I wasn't-" he starts, his betrayed expression boring into her soul. As they lay in the dark, Quinn's face crumples. She's destroyed his innocence, destroyed his ability to trust people, she just knows it. She's a terrible person. She shakes her head, her loose blonde hair falling on front of her distraught eyes.

"Y-you weren't her father F-Finn." The truth. It feels sort of good to have spoken it. She feels lighter now, less stressed out, freer, but those feelings run away when she sees how hurt he looks. Hurting him is like kicking a puppy; you always feel worse about doing it than you might with someone else.

"What?"

He refuses to believe it. His mind won't accept it. Drizzle had been his daughter. She has to have been. He had wept with Quinn when she had lost their daughter. He had believed her. He had believed her and he had trusted her to tell him the truth. Like he always does.

She dares to look at his tortured face once more, and she sees that he's crying as well.

No, that's not right. He's supposed to be furious. He's supposed to throw her out of his house and tell her to never come back. He's not supposed to be sad.

"I-I made a mistake. I'm so-so sorry Finn," she rolls over, her body still remaining in his arms, unable to bear looking at his tearstained cheeks and disbelieving eyes.

And the two of them cry far into the night. Cry for the truth and cry for the lies, for the daughter Finn thought was his. They cry for all that could've been then and that never can be now. They cry furious, hot tears at first, and then dry and defeated sobs as the dark and lonesome night goes on.

* * *

She wakes up before he does. The sun isn't up completely yet. It peaks slightly over the horizon and fills the room with a tiny amount of it's never-ending light. His strong arm is wrapped around her, and his face looks unfittingly serene and peaceful. She smiles at him, until the night before comes flooding back into her mind. Her smile dies a fast and painful death as she realizes what she must do. She doesn't want to do it. She wants to lay here in his arms forever. But that can't happen.

So she moves his arm off her and slides out of the bed. The floor doesn't creak, as if it knows that she has to do this without being heard by Finn. Quinn dresses first, putting on a virginal, white baby doll dress, and then she pulls her suitcase out from under his bed and into the middle of the room. She moves around the room stealthily, grabbing her clothes that she has thrown here and there without thinking about organizing them. One by one, each piece is tossed into her bag until it is stuffed. She zips it without much sound. And then, she writes him a quick note in messy handwriting on a piece of paper she tears from a chemistry notebook on his desk. She tiptoes over to the bed where he lays unconscious and places it where she was sleeping only minutes before, the spot still warm from her body heat. Then, she picks up her suitcase and makes her way toward the door. But, halfway to the door, she stops when something catches her eye.

She spots a picture of them together at a party about a year ago, before she was ever pregnant. They both smile radiantly, confident of their status as McKinley High's 'it' couple. But that isn't what she's looking at. Next to it rests the baby blanket that Finn had given her for what he thought was their child. She had overlooked it once Drizzle was gone, but now, simply looking at it causes a powerful yearning for her daughter to return to her in some miraculous way, to fill her cold and empty womb, even if she knows that it may not be for the better. She takes it into her hands, holding it tightly, her knuckles paling at the pressure she holds the tiny cloth with. She considers taking it with her, just to have something to remember Finn by. But she doesn't. It's his baby blanket. Not hers. She doesn't deserve it. She only brings it to her lips and plants a soft kiss on it before setting it back down where it belongs, next to the photograph from the past, the past that can never be again.

She looks around the room. She knows she'll never return, so she commits as much as she can to memory. She looks at all of Finn's shiny sports trophies, all of his posters of various bands and sports teams, and all of his scattered and wrinkled clothing, until finally resting her eyes on Finn himself, sleeping silently as he is, with his chest rising and falling with every breath he takes. Her eyes become blurry with tears she is unwilling to let fall. She isn't going to have second thoughts about leaving now. He shouldn't have to worry about where she goes to live. She just has to leave and not be a burden to him any more.

He'll find someone else. He's always wanted Rachel more than her. He'll find someone else, and he'll give all his unfailing love to that blessed individual.

She waves goodbye to him halfheartedly, although she knows doing this is useless, for he can't see her in his sleep. The girlish, irrational part of her hopes that he's dreaming about her. She tells him goodbye in her softest and most affectionate whisper. She loves him. She's absolutely sure of it now, even if she's ever doubted it before. But she can't stay with him; she can't drag him down with her. She loves him enough to let him go on and live a better life without her in the picture.

So, with one last look at him, she turns and walks out. She doesn't look back.

* * *

Finn opens his eyes the next morning and blinks several times. He rolls over, ready to wish Quinn a good morning, when he sees that her side of the bed is empty. He isn't alarmed at first – perhaps she's just gone to the bathroom – until he sees that all her clothing is gone as well, and that there is a note resting on the spot where she had lain only the night before. Groggily, he opens the folded and crinkled piece of paper and reads it, his hazy brain struggling to process the words:

_Finn,_

_Please, please forgive me. I lied to you. I hurt you. I hurt you badly. I don't blame you if you don't forgive me. You didn't even have to care when I lost Drizzle. I should have told you the truth, Finn. I was too selfish to see what it was doing to you. Or maybe I saw what it was doing but didn't think about how you felt. Either way, I was a selfish bitch and I think we both know that._

_I slept with Puck, Finn. He was Drizzle's dad. Don't beat him up or anything. It wasn't all his idea. We were drunk and I wasn't thinking right. I know you'll never understand why I lied to you, and, to be honest, I'm not sure I do either. I thought it was the right thing to do. I realize that, what I thought at that time, back so long ago, and what I think now are totally different._

_Don't come looking for me. Please. Trust me, you'll be better off without me. You'll find love somewhere else. But I know that you're better off without me to drag you down._

_All my love,_

_Quinn_

Her name is signed with her trademark swirl on the 'Q'. He is instantly filled with panic. Maybe he should be mad. Maybe he should rip her note up and tear up all his pictures of them together, but he doesn't. He's worried about her. Its overpowering worry, the kind he's only had once, and that was when he hit that mailman.

He sees what time it is, and he realizes that he's late for school. He'll see her there. The two of them can talk there. He has to talk to her. He has to understand why she lied. He's not going to let it end like this, without closure. He throws on some relatively clean clothes, grabs some kind of tasteless granola bar for breakfast, and runs out the door with his sneakers untied.

* * *

He misses first period, but that's all right because it's only literature and he's failing that class anyway. He looks for her in the halls, and when he doesn't see her there, he walks over to her locker, only to find the janitor cleaning out her things and throwing them into a trash bin near the locker.

"What are you doing?" he exclaims. His voice betrays all his confusion and hurt. The janitor looks up with startled eyes at the rumpled and out of breath boy before him, and stops before throwing away a red notebook of hers.

"Calm down, son. This girl, Quinn, I think her name is, dropped out early this mornin'. So I'm just gettin' rid of her stuff." He drops the notebook into the garbage and then, taking several pens, tosses them in as well.

Finn leans against the locker next to what used to be Quinn's. He doesn't trust his legs to support him anymore. His breathing becomes quick, and his heart pounds so loudly that all he can hear is it's thumping against his chest.

No. She can't have just dropped out. He _has_ to talk to her. She can't just leave McKinley. She can't leave everyone here, including him. Where will she go?

He considers going after her. There's a good chance she's still in Lima. And she doesn't have a car. She can't go far without one. She can't really leave town, unless she hitchhikes. But something stops his feet from moving toward the door; stops him from chasing after her.

She doesn't want him to come after her. She ran away for a reason, and that is to get away from everything and everyone here, including him. She won't be happy if he follows her. And even though he knows he shouldn't, he still wants her to be happy.

* * *

**Note: **Epilogue is next.


	12. Epilogue

_If you must go, I wish you love__  
__You'll never walk alone__  
__Take care, my love__  
__Miss you, love_

Journey, Separate Ways (Worlds Apart)

* * *

She's older now. Wiser. More experienced in the ways of life. Five years ago today is the day she lost her daughter Drizzle. She thinks she's moved on since then, but what is moving on, really? Is it forgetting? She tried to do that once, and it didn't work.

Her daughter's tombstone isn't large. It isn't really even small. It's downright tiny. But she had been tiny, when she had arrived in this world prematurely, so she thinks that it's fitting enough. The stone sinks into the grass of the cemetery. When she compares it to one that must be over five feet tall, she shakes her head at the extravagance. That family had probably wanted their deceased relative to be immortalized with a giant tombstone. She wants her to daughter to be remembered, too, but not everyone can afford an expensive tombstone that soars over everything else and makes all other headstones pale in comparison. No one need ever remember her but Quinn, anyway, so she doesn't think it that important.

There are no birth and death dates on it. She was never really born. She never really died. It is the simplest tombstone in the graveyard. It has her name, Drizzle Hudson-Fabray. It has a short, cliché statement that says something like, G_one, but never forgotten._ And that's all. Because, she never forgot her. Even though she tried her hardest to leave the memory of her daughter behind, she never did, not completely. No matter how many times she told herself and all those around her to forget, no one did.

_Gone, but never forgotten._

She goes there every year as a rather depressing tradition she insists on continuing despite protests from her sister, who worries obsessively over her mental health. She doesn't bring flowers. She's never brought flowers. She just sits there for a while, just sits in silence. Talk is cheap; talk doesn't mean anything to her lost daughter. But she knows that her presence does.

Time passes. An hour, a minute, a second. It's all the same to her. She sits and stares at the little gravestone; she loses herself in the moment. And she's done this every year for five years.

She hears footsteps on the grass behind her, just as she's about to get up and leave. She stands, brushing her dress off, and turns around the face the person standing soundlessly behind her in the deserted cemetery.

Her green eyes make contact with a face that she hasn't seen in a long, long time. She's almost shocked, but not completely. Something far inside her has expected this meeting to occur for a while now. She blinks to make sure this isn't a bad dream, and she's not surprised to find out that it isn't.

He wouldn't be here if it were a bad dream.

"Hey Quinn," he talks in a voice that has deepened slightly into manhood. She looks at him, unable to speak, unable to move, unable to comprehend anything other than the fact that _Finn Hudson_ is standing in front of her.

"Why are you here?" she inquires, her voice nearly inaudible. Oh, maybe her words sound cold. But he has no reason to be here, not at her daughter's grave. Her special moment with her daughter is ruined and she almost wants to blame him, but she can't bring herself to do it. Not after all she's done to him.

"I come here, once every year. I-I came a bit late this year," he admits in an almost sheepish way. He still looks the same. He hasn't changed. She hasn't either. They're both stuck in the past and she has been beginning to wonder if she can ever move forward. They've both grown up, but growing up is not necessarily maturing. And seeing him isn't helping her. He's her past. He's dragging her down and keeping her away from her future.

And he visits here. Like she does. It takes her a moment to understand this. Because, for years, she's told herself that she's the only one who ever bothers to visit here, that no one else cares about a miscarried child.

"Why?" Still, frostiness lingers in her tone. She doesn't understand. She's the only one who should go to her daughter's grave. No one else visits. Puck doesn't. He never has. She hasn't seen him in years, but she's more than sure he'll never bother to come to his baby's grave.

He sighs and drops to his knees beside the grave. She follows suit. He looks at it for a while, as if lost in another world, another place and time that are much happier than the present. He doesn't hurry to answer her. When he finally does open his mouth to speak, she's been waiting impatiently for a response for a few minutes, her eyes darting back and forth from Finn to the grave.

"I thought for so long that she was mine, you know? I got attached, even if she wasn't mine." She doesn't know why. He had no blood ties to her daughter. He was not her father. He doesn't have to be attached. Despite her attempts to calm herself, she can't stand it any more. It doesn't make sense to her.

"You weren't her father," she seethes angrily. He cringes, but she doesn't see,"You didn't need to care. Why do you, Finn? Why do you care?" Her voice is wavering. She wants to steady it, but she can't. She's overtaken with emotion. It's choking her up and filling her with indignation at the same time.

_He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be here._

"I loved her. I-I thought she was mine for so long. And I…came t…to love her." She scoffs at his ridiculous words.

"It's a load of bull," she says. Her eyes are blank, but she blinks back unshed tears nonetheless, "I don't believe in it. I don't believe in any of it. Love isn't real. I've learned that." Finn looks wounded. She starts to walk away, but she only gets to the gate before he stops her by catching her arm. Yet, his grip isn't commanding. It tells her that, if she really wants to go, then he won't stop her. But if she'll stay, just for a few moments, he'll make her understand.

"Quinn, wait." She wants to leave. She wants to leave and never see him again. But she can't, and she doesn't know why, but her feet don't move and she stays put, "I still love you, Quinn. I-"

"Then you're stupid," she cuts him off, and he snaps his mouth shut. Her voice is commanding, authoritative, "You shouldn't love me. What do you know about love anyway?"

"What do _you_ know about love?" he counters. She glares at him and narrows her eyes, but doesn't respond. She knows no more of it than he does. Sure, she's dated people since she left Finn. But it was never serious. It had always been a distraction from the hell that was and is her life. She's had about one serious relationship in her lifetime, and it was with Finn, back in high school many years ago when they were both still children at heart. Nothing before that, nothing since. She hasn't learned anything about love since she left him. In fact, she feels like she's forgotten what love is, forgotten enough to start doubting it's existence. She's stopped believing in it. But she doesn't need him to preach to her about love, when he knows so little of the nonexistent emotion himself.

"I don't believe in it." She can say this without hesitation. She had, at one point, strongly believed in it, but she no longer does. She believes in infatuation. She believes in sexual attraction. But love isn't infatuation or sexual attraction. Love is love, and since she can't find an exact definition for it, it cannot exist. She has started to use logic to explain things more and more often. It just makes more sense. And love…love is far from logical. He's still foolish to think it does, but she's grown up.

"I never got over you, Quinn-"

"I bet you ran right into Rachel's arms when I left," she says scornfully.

"No, I didn't. I loved Rachel like…like…"

"Like what?"

"I loved her like a friend." She spots his truthful expression. He isn't lying. She wants to have the upper hand in the argument, but it's quickly becoming clear that this is not the case.

Quinn doesn't want to talk about Rachel. She hasn't heard anything about the diva since leaving all those years ago. She hasn't made it on Broadway, at least not as far as she's heard. But she doesn't _want_ to know. Rachel can go and live her own life. Quinn will go and live hers. Their two paths don't need to intersect.

"Yeah, you lied to me. I was…pretty angry for a while. But I didn't stay mad. I forgave you, Quinn." Forgiveness is the last thing she needs right now, "I just don't get…why you lied." He looks up at her. Just looking into her eyes causes memories to flood into her head wildly. She shakes her head, and tries to stop the terrible deluge of scenes from the past. She looks at him with a wide-eyed expression. She doesn't want to think back to the night that she lost her daughter, or the night that she told him the truth and they wept for hours together in the darkness. She hasn't forgotten the burning pain in her abdomen when her miscarriage began or the burning pain in her heart when they had held each other and cried. She remembers everything all so well.

And she's been thinking about why she lied for many years now. When she had left, she had been unsure. She had kind of came to a conclusion when she was looking through a high school yearbook. Once she had seen Finn's face for the first time in two years, her hand sliding gently over the glossy picture in which she spotted him, she had decided that she had done it because he would have been the father that Puck couldn't to her child. She had known that before, but it had taken their separation for it to be cemented in her heart. After realizing that, she had tried not to think of him. But, just as she had tried to forget before, it hadn't worked. She thought about him everyday, wondered what he was doing then, wondered if he ever thought of her. In a way, she had hoped that he didn't think of her. It would cause him more unnecessary suffering, and she left for one reason and one reason only: so he could go on and live without her.

"You know that…Puck couldn't have been a really great father. I knew you would. I knew you'd be a great father, Finn," she speaks emphatically, passionately, to make him understand her. Tears chokes her up, "And so I told you…made up the story about the hot tub. You were failing biology; I knew you'd believe it. I-I didn't do it to save our relationship or anything…I did it because I thought that it was what was best for Drizzle."

_Drizzle. For the endless tears that drizzled down her cheeks_

"So you didn't do it to keep me away from Rachel or anything…" She knows instantly that that was the explanation he had come up with for her betrayal. She cringes. Is that what he's thought all these years? That she did it to crush Rachel's hopes of a relationship with Finn, and vice versa? She wouldn't exactly put her high school-self past doing something like that, but she knows that it's not the reason she lied. She shakes her head and sniffles.

"God, no…I did it for her, Finn…But she's gone now, and it doesn't matter any more," she turns away so he doesn't see that she's close to crying. But she still doesn't leave.

_He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be here._

Maybe he should. Maybe he actually loved Drizzle. Maybe he still loves her, even though she's gone and he knows now that she wasn't his daughter. So, maybe that's why she doesn't pull away when he takes her into his arms. Maybe she's beginning to understand.

"I shouldn't have just run away like I did. I just couldn't…let you worry about where I was gonna live or have to see me everyday at school and think of how I betrayed you…I just couldn't…" She looks up at him. She hadn't wanted to do this, hadn't wanted to accept his forgiveness after what she's done to him. But she can't really bring herself to refuse it. Not now.

"Puck was her father, but you were her dad, Finn." She knows there's a difference. A father is a more distant and unfamiliar relation than a dad is. Even if Drizzle never knew her father or her dad, Quinn can easily identify who is who. Paternity isn't all that matters, she concludes, "Even if she never lived to know you." She can feel him nodding and holding her tighter, pressing her against him as if wanting to keep her with him forever. It's not easy to hug him because of the height difference, but she manages by standing on the tips of her toes. He used to lift her up when they would hug. But he doesn't do that now, after they've just made up. He doesn't know about their future. What really matters, other than this moment right now?

"I don't…think that you ever stopped believing in love." He knows that she wouldn't be able to talk about her daughter in the way she is now if she has ever stopped believing in love.

"Maybe," she whispers into his jacket. He still smells bland, almost like nothing, and she loves it. Finally, he lets her go, and they walk out of the graveyard together, his arm encircling her waist, her head leaning on his shoulder, like they used to walk with each other back in high school, back when they had hardly wasted a thought on the future. What was in store for them hadn't mattered. Walking out of the graveyard together, they leave behind the past, leave behind a tiny daughter in a tiny grave. But they walk toward the future together. Whether they will be together in a day, in a year, isn't a 'maybe' to them any more, not in their minds.

It's a surety.

* * *

A week after their reunion, Quinn tells him she wants to go to church. She hasn't set foot in one for a long, long time. She'd stopped believing the God is watching over her. She'd stopped attending Mass every Sunday. God's probably forgotten her by now, she figures, since she hasn't talked to Him in years. But maybe, just maybe, He'll remember insignificant little Quinn Fabray and will listen to her for a short while.

When she asks Finn to drive there, he doesn't really get why, but he doesn't refuse her either.

They walk in the building and she selects a pew and slides into it. He sits next to her in silence. They both stare a wooden crucifix. They hear the ethereal voices of the choir singing, reverberating throughout the church. It makes the area peaceful, yet haunting, at the same time.

"I stopped believing God, too, when I left." He turns his head and looks at her. She has her head bowed slightly, but not so much that he can't see her face, "I just figured that He didn't care. I'll bet he's forgotten who I am by now."

"Why'd you ask to come here?" Finn questions. He wasn't raised Catholic or any other religion, really. He doesn't know a lot about God, or about sinning, or heaven and hell. He'd never understood why she wouldn't have sex with him, back in high school. Finn had never asked her about her beliefs. Truthfully, he hadn't cared. But now, sitting together in the calm, empty church, he _does_ care. He wants to ask her why there's a table in the front of the building with a cloth on it, and why there's a statue of a man hanging on a cross. He wants to know about her beliefs, about the savior that the choir is singing so devotedly and passionately about. But he lets her talk and doesn't interrupt. His questions can wait.

"I know there's some reason you found me… I-I know there's some reason that you forgave me. And I know there's a reason I… never stopped… loving you, Finn. Someone's watching over us. And…I think they have a plan for all of us. Maybe you're part of my plan," she suggests. Finn smiles.

Perhaps. Or perhaps there isn't a God. Perhaps when you die, you just sleep forever, without ever waking up. Perhaps there is no heaven, no place above the clouds where angels live and souls are free from the shackles of their earthly bodies. But he doesn't want to think about death, not when he's so recently just found Quinn again. He doesn't want to think about what awaits him up in the sky, after death, after he leaves this life. He doesn't want or need to focus on anything but her at the moment.

A women slides into the pew next to Quinn and takes a rosary from her purse. She kneels and bows her head, hair that is almost the same color as Quinn's falling in front of her careworn face. She grips each bead tightly between long and dark red fingernails. Quinn doesn't take notice. She only looks straight ahead, tuning out the world around her for that instant, alone in her jumbled thoughts about the plan of her life. Somehow, Finn knows that she doesn't want to be disturbed. So his eyes glance over at the person sitting beside her. Something about her is familiar, but he doesn't know what.

He hasn't gotten much smarter over the years. His wit is still slow and he's still not good with comebacks. But he knows there's something about this woman he recognizes. The woman looks up from her rosary abruptly, and when he catches a glimpse of her face, he knows whom she is.

Quinn's mother sits there, praying her rosary silently, devoutly. Whether she sees her daughter and him and chooses to ignore them, he isn't sure. But when Quinn snaps out of her trance, she sees Finn staring at the woman sitting about a foot away from her and follows his stunned gaze. He sees her eyes get wide for about five seconds before she utters a single word:

"Mom?" Quinn, surprisingly, doesn't want to yell at her. She doesn't even want to scowl at her. She wants to reach out and let her mother take her into her arms and tell her that everything will be okay. Time has dulled her anger into sadness, into longing. She's surprising herself, for years back, she would have liked nothing better than to cuss her mother out. However, she does not move a muscle. Her mother looks up, and she looks almost terrified to hear her daughter's voice.

"Quinn." She swallows. She's surprised that her daughter's facial expression is free of hate. The two women look at each other for a moment, before Quinn reaches over and embraces her mother lightly, unfamiliarly, as if they are strangers meeting for the first time. Her mother's strong, floral perfume hits her nostrils hard and she struggles not to cough at the pungent fragrance. The scent calls back memories of her childhood, of when she would bury herself into her mother's chest during a storm. That was before she was thrown out onto the streets like a piece of unwanted, worthless trash. When she was younger, she had put her mother and father on a pedestal, worshipping the very ground they walked on and doing whatever they wanted her to do. They were her idols. But not any more. She doesn't have that childish, blind love any more.

They haven't seen each other in so long that they are, really, strangers to each other. Quinn's a stranger to the older, sadder women sitting next to her, and her mother is a stranger to the woman who used to be her little daughter. They look at each other. She can see that her mother's once-pretty blonde hair, the hair she passed on to Quinn, is beginning to go gray before its time. She looks much older than when Quinn last saw her. She looks at least ten years older, maybe more. It's surprising, to say the least. Her mother had been aging gracefully before Quinn was thrown out. After that, she thinks, everything seemed to have changed.

"I haven't seen you in years," her mother says to her before breaking away from the embrace. Something close to guilt washes over Quinn. She hadn't contacted her mother once she had run away. She hadn't even thought about it. She had gone off to stay with her sister, and had made her sister promise not to tell their parents she was staying with her. Back then, she had still had a huge, mean grudge towards her mother and father, one that no amount of care or love could ever lift. Eventually, though, her anger cooled, but she still refused to see them. She just didn't want to do it. She wasn't ready to see them. She might have no longer been mad, but there was no forgiveness for her parents after they had thrown her out.

Maybe there still isn't.

"I know." Is she sad? Does she have to be? She doesn't know. She doesn't know what to say now. What do you say to the person that had just sat back and watched you be thrown out of the house? What _can_ you say?

"Hello, Mrs. Fabray," Finn greets her mother, as if sensing that Quinn is at a loss for words and doesn't want an uncomfortable silence during their first meeting in years.

"Finn. Nice to see you again." Her mother marvels at the evident love on his face for her daughter when he looks over at her. She remembers the look on his face during that song he had sang over dinner to Quinn many years ago. It's still the same here. It hasn't changed. And this brings the first real smile in years to her lips. She hasn't been there to love her daughter, but at least someone has.

"H…How's dad?" Maybe she should stay mad at him. He is, after all, the person who actually _did_ throw her out of the house. And she isn't sure why she wants to know about him. She had hated him. But, again, time as dulled her anger. Her hate doesn't burn strongly now. It does remain in a small quantity, but not enough to make her absolutely despise him.

Quinn doesn't realize how forgiving she's being, but Finn does and it makes him put a protective arm around her.

"He's all right." This discussion is too formal, her mother decides. Too forced, "I want to tell you something, Quinn." She meets and holds Quinn's gaze, "When I saw you in the hospital, after you miscarried, it… destroyed me. I…I had a miscarriage Quinn. You should have had…should have had a little brother. We were going to name him Ben…Benjamin. But he was lost and at the time…I had thought I would give anything to give him back. Like you said you would. Your father desperately wanted to carry on the family name. I disappointed him, I suppose. But I couldn't have any more children after that. The doctors said it wasn't safe. So all I had…was you and your sister. And when your sister got married and moved away, all I had was you. I love you, honey. Once you were gone, I-I was all alone. I regretted… letting your father kick you out more than I've ever regretted anything. You don't know how many nights I spent crying over you and wondering…where you were…" Tears prickle the older woman's eyes and she wipes them away, smearing her makeup and creating dark shadows around her eyes. Quinn sits, spellbound, listening to her mother's words with an overwhelmed sort of awe.

"I can't…change what I did and you don't have to forgive me. But I just wanted you to know…that I didn't 'celebrate,' or anything when… you lost your baby." Her daughter cringes as she thinks of her accusation she made years back. She hadn't, at the time, seen how it had hurt her mother. She hadn't cared. She had hated her more than anything.

Quinn unexpectedly remembers then, back when she was five, walking into the bathroom and seeing her mother bent over in pain, bracing herself against the counter. The details are hazy, but she remembers a lot of screaming, and much, much blood. It had stained the white tiles in the bathroom and they'd had to get them replaced afterward. When her father had approached, he had rushed her young self away and then she hadn't seen her mother for a day. Her five-year-old-self hadn't made the connection. She didn't dare ask her father, for he had seemed livid enough at the time. And even when she herself had lost her child, she still didn't make the connection. She'd been too caught up in her own grief to even _begin_ to think of anyone else's.

Her mind spinning with his new revelation, she looks into her mother's eyes. They are green, like her own, and hold a sadness, a distinct sorrow that says that the person has had to deal with a lot during their life. Quinn has noticed something like it in her eyes when looking in the mirror lately. It makes her uncomfortable to think that she can become bitter and jaded like her mother.

"I…" she doesn't know what to say. How she say _anything_ after what her mother just told her?

"I didn't know." Quinn takes her mother into her arms uncertainly. This time, she doesn't notice her mother's perfume as much.

"I know." They're both crying now, tears pouring freely down their cheeks. Both of them seem to have forgotten about Finn's presence, but he doesn't draw attention to himself, and only watches the scene in silence, "Forgive me, please."

"I do. I do." Maybe it's kind of like a scene from a corny movie, but Quinn can't help but wonder if this is her happy ending, or something like it. You know, the part where everyone forgives each other? The resolution of the movie? When bridges are rebuilt, after being burnt, and past wrongs are forgiven? Quinn is sure this is so. After waiting so long for a happy ending, she finally has something close to it.

The two break apart, and she watches as her mother checks the time on her golden watch that her father had gotten her as an anniversary present years ago. Lines of thought cut into her mother's forehead and she frowns.

"I need to go home and make dinner." She puts her rosary away and rests her eyes on her daughter, "Thank you, Quinn. I don't deserve forgiveness or anything even…close to forgiveness. But…I love you. Goodbye… honey." She gets up from her seat and heads toward the door, before stopping and turning to face her daughter abruptly, "Quinn?" She continues when the other woman twists her head around to look behind her, "You…you know the house phone number?" Quinn nods. She had memorized it as a child, and, try as she might; she has never forgotten it.

"Call it sometime… soon." She feels her heart swell with maternal joy when a bright smile lights up Quinn's pretty features.

"I will."

* * *

She calls the number, and everything is fine and dandy between them for a year and a half. They walk in the park together, they eat in cafes together, they shop together. They do all the things a mother and daughter should. She even reconciles with her father. Everything is wonderful; everything is perfect. Finn proposes to her, and then she and her mother go out to shop for the wedding. Her life hasn't been this good in a long, long time. But good things never last for Quinn Fabray.

Out of the blue, her mother starts to get sick. She begins to weaken and lose weight. Soon, they can no longer walk together in the park, for her mother gets tired easily, too easily. They start shopping together online for the approaching wedding instead of in the stores, because her mother can no longer withstand a lengthy shopping trip like she once could. And they stop eating at cafes together, because her mother no longer has a large enough appetite to stomach the portions given. She knows she mother's youth _is_ slipping away from her, but Quinn knows something else is wrong. So she convinces her mother to see a doctor, and that doctor runs all sorts of tests that Quinn can't keep track of and then finally tells them he knows what is wrong.

He tells them, gravely, that her mother has breast cancer, and that she is too far gone to save. They tell her that they estimate she has six more months to live, at the maximum. Could be more, could be less. But, in other words, they are telling her that her mother is not going to live to see her get married, live to see her grandchildren, live to see her great-grandchildren.

She can't believe it. Not so soon after they have just reconciled, surely. Her mother can't be taken from her now! There's so much she still wants to do! But nevertheless, her mother is slipping away very quickly and there's nothing anyone can do about it.

Quinn now thinks back on the five years that she didn't see her mother. She thinks back on them as wasted time now, time they could have spent together. Time that was tossed away that they'll never get back.

Those six months pass fast, too fast. Quinn decides to wear her mother's wedding dress, a decision her mother rejoices cheerfully over. They work on the wedding together, getting in as much as they can before…before she won't be able to help any more. Neither of them talks about the terminal cancer and her mother's impending demise. They live in the moment for those six months. Quinn lets her mother pick the kind of flowers, lets her pick the bridesmaid dresses. She practically lets her mother dictate the entire celebration. But she doesn't mind.

And then suddenly, her mother can't help any more. The cancer takes over her body and weakens her to the point that she can't even stay awake for more than a few hours at a time. Just like that, her mother's vitality is gone. She is no longer full of life. She is frighteningly skinny now. She is just a shadow of the woman she used to be. But she hangs on for a long time, refusing to surrender to death until she sees that the details of her daughter's wedding have all been planned, every single thing precisely arranged.

And when her mother's soul leaves this earth, her family is gathered around her bed, praying, weeping, hugging each other. Quinn weeps especially hard, as she remembers all the hateful things she has said to her mother over her lifetime. She wants to take them all back, every single one of them. But she can't, because it's too late.

At her mother's funeral, she also breaks down crying. Her knees give out. Her body shakes uncontrollably. Finn walks up behind her without a word, and he takes her arm, helping her to her feet, and they keep on going, like they always have, like they always will.

* * *

Will strolls up and down at halls of a supermarket, pushing a shopping cart in front of him and throwing in several items from the packed shelf. He usually let Terri do the shopping when they were married, and he's still getting used to making lists and finding everything he needs in a decent amount of time. He walks over and takes a box of instant potatoes (he's not really good with the cooking either) from the shelf and is about to head back to his cart when he turns around and runs into a thin woman with red hair and wide eyes. His hands tremble a bit and he almost drops the package of potatoes when she looks directly at him, revealing a familiar face.

"Emma," his eyes light up and he feels a sort of joy he hasn't felt in a while, a sort of joy that he had forgotten how to feel. She had left the school only a few months after Quinn had run away, and he hasn't seen her since the day that she tearfully told him goodbye in her office and refused to tell him where her new job was. He'd begged her to stay. She'd told him she couldn't, and he still isn't sure why he never asked her why she would not stay, why she was so desperate to leave. He had just stood there like an idiot and watched her go.

"Will. Hi," she greets him stiffly, nervously. She's wearing a royal blue sweater and matching, knee-length skirt; the kind of outfit she'd wear back when she worked at McKinley High. She doesn't seem much different, but looks can be deceiving.

"I haven't seen you in forever!" He moves towards her to embrace her, but she moves away from his arms. He writes it off because of her aversion to germs, although he can feel a tense and almost hesitant atmosphere around her, and he doesn't like it. She appears to be the same, but something's wrong and he knows it.

"Yeah, well…" She tries her best to smile, but it comes out looking forced and unwelcoming. It's not that she doesn't want to see Will – she's actually really happy to lay eyes on him – but she knows that she shouldn't. It's not right. The ring on her finger suddenly feels heavier, like a weight dragging her down, farther and farther, until she can no longer see light. She knows that Will doesn't see it. He's too caught up in her eyes. She decides to switch subjects before he spots it, "So…instant potatoes, huh?" He laughs, a deep chuckle that she makes her want to faint.

"Yeah. Terri and I…divorced a couple years ago. Turns out she wasn't ever really pregnant." He swallows and unwillingly remembers the day that she had left. How she had begged him to stay, pleading with him, how he had told her she was heartless and cruel, and how he had left without looking back, "I'm still learning to cook. What better way to start than with instant potatoes?" She grins. His little jokes have always made her laugh. She grips her cart tightly. She's getting lost in his face…in his voice…in his eyes…He's so easy to fall in love with.

Too easy.

A hand suddenly snakes its way around her waist and she looks over to find Ken standing next to her, holding a six-pack of beer and a bag of Doritos in his pudgy arms. She swallows and pretends to be glad that he's here to see Will with her, so they can see their old friend and former co-worker together.

"Hey, babe, you get the eggs?" he asks, and she nods in response. He puts them in his own special 'energy drink,' which is really just a few eggs, some cabbage, some peanut butter, and some protein powder thrown in a blender and pulverized until they make a sickly green concoction that he thinks will help him lose weight. She doesn't object to it, even though she knows that it is certainly not helping him shed pounds.

Emma's tried to love her husband. Of course she has. He's always treated her right, hardly ever yells at her, and is seemingly fine with her germ obsession. He's nice and good and always makes sure she wants for nothing that he can get her. But she's always wanted something that he can't ever bring her, and that something is standing right in front of her in the form of Will Schuester. She can feel Ken tense up when he lays his eyes on the other man.

"Will." It's not like he's forgotten how his friend and his then-fiancé had had a crush on each other back when the three of them worked together. He doesn't trust Will, not any more. Ken looks at him suspiciously, analyzing the other guy and making Will glance around nervously.

"Hey Ken." Will swallows. The familiarity between them is something only a husband and a wife usually share, and he hesitantly looks down at Emma's hand. When his eyes make contact with her sparkling ring, he just _knows, _"You, um, you got married_._" He makes himself smile, makes himself seem happy, although inside he feels crushing defeat and extreme sorrow he hasn't felt since he found out they were getting married in the first place. Will had been sure that she wouldn't do it, once she left the school. He knew that she didn't love him and he had held onto the foolish hope that she would wait for him until they were both ready and able to love each other. He sees how truly stupid his hopes were now, as he stands alone, in front of the two of them, who stand together.

She didn't wait. He doesn't blame her. It's not her fault. He doesn't blame Ken either. Once Will had divorced Terri, he had tried to find Emma, but to not avail. After that, he had simply waited too long, and she had already gone and married Ken. It's not their fault. It's his. He's always been too cautious, and it has often been pointed out to him that his carefulness would he his downfall.

"Yes. A few months after I left McKinley," she answers steadily. The smiles on everyone's faces are for the sake of politeness only. No one really feels like smiling. No one really feels happy.

"Well, uh…Good luck. I have to get going now. It'll take me years to find the rest of this stuff." Looking up from his list, he shifts his tender gaze to Emma and lowers his tone to soothing, calming, and almost seductive one that he hopes Ken doesn't take notice of, "Do you know where the pasta is?"

She almost swoons. After so long, he's finally looking at her this way. And now _she's_ the one who can't act on her feelings. She swallows. A lump is forming in her throat. She doesn't want him to go. She wants to take one, long look at him and drink in his appearance from his head to his toes.

She and Ken are moving next week, she remembers all of a sudden. He's gotten a job at a bigger and better high school down near Columbus. She hadn't objected to the move at first, but that was before she had met Will at the grocery store and looked into his eyes. He's have changed everything. He's made her question her contentment and yearn for something more, something daring.

"Aisle four. The…the pasta is in aisle four," she informs him softly. Emma doesn't tell him about the move. She just wants to leave and try to love Ken and start over in a totally new town with totally new people. A fresh start is what she'll get. Maybe, eventually, Will Schuester will fade from her memory and she'll only look back on him fondly, as an old friend remembers another old friend. Not with any lingering feelings of attraction or anything of the like.

"Thanks." They both want this moment to last forever. Will hopes that he'll see her again. Emma knows this, and she knows that it will never be. Oh, maybe they'll visit their relatives in Lima. But they won't visit more than once a year and the odds of seeing Will on these trips are slim, very slim. And Emma's never been lucky with slim odds.

She watches as he walks towards aisle four, hunting for pasta. She doesn't mention to him how pasta's always been her favorite thing to eat. She also doesn't tell him that she loves him with her entire heart, and that she might never see him again, for some things are better left unsaid.

No matter what all the books and movies tell you, endings aren't always happy. They're sad, they're happy, they're suspenseful. But sometimes, endings are just that: endings. Sometimes no emotion needs to be associated with them. Sometimes all something can do is end.

_**FIN.

* * *

**_

**Note: **I really enjoyed writing this fiction. I thank everyone who bothered to read it and left me wonderful reviews. This story started off as something without a planned future and kind of wrote itself. Nevertheless, I have had a lot of fun. I plan to continue writing for the Glee fandom, but one can never know where the wind will blow them, can they?


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